


For Their Future Loss

by Flick (raynon)



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), My Chemical Romance, The Crow - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Animal Death, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use, i just love sibling relationships, my brain mashing two of the most emo sources in media: NOW KISS, the angst gets worse before it gets better, there's pining if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24867916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynon/pseuds/Flick
Summary: Basically it's just The Crow storyline, loosely influenced between the comic & the first two movies. Setting is Newark, NJ. Ghost is a cult that wants to harness the power of the infamous harbinger of vengeance and target Gerard as their vessel, but will it work in their favor?
Relationships: Frank Iero & Ray Toro & Gerard Way & Mikey Way, Gerard Way & Mikey Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. victims, aren't we all?

The overhead light flickered above them, making Frank scowl and begin to turn his face away. The scowl only intensified when Gerard grabbed his jaw, and continued wiping a wet paper towel over the black X on his left eyelid.

“Could you hold still for one second?” Gerard grumbled.

Frank didn’t respond at first; his thoughts were too occupied with the bitterness of how dingy this bathroom was. There weren’t even any mirrors, the dripping faucet he sat beside smelled of stale water, and the lights couldn’t even keep from flickering for more than fifteen fucking seconds. The only thing that he didn’t mind was reading the graffiti covering nearly every inch of the walls, because at least it gave him some distraction from all the nasty parts of this place.

“That shit’s scratchy.” Frank nudged Gerard’s hand away and dug the heel of his palm over the remaining paint. He just smudged it further.

Gerard tossed the paper towel against a full trash can and watched it roll with a splat on the floor. “Well, can’t say I didn’t try. Looks more like you got in a fight now, but that’s nothing new.”

Frank snorted and pointed to one of the scribblings. “Hey, check this out.” It was only a face, like a scrunched up cartoon. The nose was bulbous but the smile stretched across one side to the other, and it was adorned with a very messily drawn crown. “What if that was my next tat?”

Gerard gave him a light nudge, knocking him off the corner of the sink. “That’s art theft, dude. Come on. The faster we get outta here, the better.” He turned around to open the door, and got aggravated all over again. Although there was still room to get out, the door opened inward and left only about a foot and a half of space between itself and the closest stall door. “Seriously. Who fuckin’ designed this place?”

“I bet this is what purgatory’s like,” Frank thought aloud as he squeezed out of the bathroom next.

Mikey and Ray were nearly done packing everything up; all the cases were stacked by the back door ready to be loaded into the van. The lighting wasn’t much better in the cramped hallway, but at least it was constant. And the door was open, so the night breeze from outside was more than a blessing.

“Took ya long enough,” Ray scoffed. “What were you two doin’ in there?”

Mikey stared Ray down and shook his head in warning. “Don’t start.”

“What? Frank was practically hanging off of him for half the show.” Ray turned to Frank. “Did you forget what personal space is?”

Frank passively raised his middle finger.

From the other end of the hall, one of the bartenders approached the four with a tray of beers. “Hey, the owner wanted to thank you guys for coming out tonight. One round before you head off?”

“Yeah, thanks!” Frank was the first to take up the offer.

Ray was the next to take a glass,, though he couldn’t help but fix his gaze on the small face tattoo the bartender had. It wasn’t anything particularly unique; just an inverted cross with a three-quarter circle at the base of it right next to his ear. Ray knew better than to ask questions; he also wanted to just go home like the rest of them, though the way the bartender smiled so blankly was a bit unnerving.

Mikey was third, and Gerard finally joined in. His glass clinked quietly against Mikey’s before they both downed their drinks. All of them finished quickly, and they finally got back to loading the van.

Ray groaned. “Finally!” He reached for the van keys in his pocket. “I’m so fuckin’ beat. Let’s get outta here.”

“...Shit, you’re fucking kidding me.” Mikey pat all his pockets down and grunted in frustration. “My phone. I must’ve left it near the stage or something.”

Gerard sighed and pushed the damp black tendrils of his bangs back. “Alright, then let’s go find it,” he said without missing a beat. “Just start the van up and wait for us, hopefully this’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Way to go, numbnuts. The longer you take, the longer Rocket starves.” Frank rolled his eyes and walked around to hop in the passenger’s seat. His feet automatically pressed up against the glove compartment, and he slouched down as far as his body would allow.

“Dude, gross.” Ray pushed Frank’s dirty shoes down. “You don’t know when they last mopped that floor in there.”

Frank could only give a devious smirk back and return his feet to their previous position.

“Alright...well, pray we don’t get in an accident or else your own knees are busting your collarbone.” Ray leaned back and turned the radio on. Still, he only let the music fill the silence until he glanced back at Frank. “Y’know...you didn’t get all the paint off.”

“Okay, I’ll just take a shower when we get home.” Frank shrugged half-defensively. He started gnawing at the 21+ bracelet around his wrist that the bar had given to everyone, knowing Ray was still silently judging him.

The radio soon switched to a stream of commercials, one after the other. Frank started counting them, and by the time he got to six, he thumped his head back against the seat. “The fuck is taking them so long? I’m gonna go check.” Without waiting for Ray to respond, he opened the door again and circled around the van one more time.

Ray sighed heavily and took the keys with him as he followed Frank; he wasn’t in the mood for waiting in an alley all by himself.

“Hey, assholes--” Frank opened the back door, but was met with total darkness. All the lights were turned off, as far as either of them could see, and panic immediately set in.

“Mikey? Gee!” Ray was careful walking forward, though he knew the basic layout of where he was going enough. “Mikey!”

Frank, on the other hand, was much quicker and frantic. He pulled his own phone out to use as a flashlight, and he scrambled along the walls for any sort of switch. Frustration overwhelmed him quickly, though, and he stumbled his way through the chilled darkness to the front entrance. Still, he came up with nothing. No switches, not a fuse box. “The fuck is going on!”

Ray felt around for every door he could find, and he didn’t stop calling out Gerard’s or Mikey’s names. It was only when his hand fell through an already open doorway when the strangest weight of dread dropped on his stomach. He swallowed hard, feeling his body tense. He wished he wasn’t the one to find a light switch first. “...Frank?”

“Did you find them?” he called back immediately, running closer to Ray’s voice. He’d tripped over the base of the stage in the process and fell forward, but he pushed himself back up. There was no time to complain about the new sticky residue left on his hands or the smell of old vodka.

When Frank was close enough, Ray found the courage to switch the light on.

They’d found the office, they presumed, but they wished that was only what they’d found. Frank hardly even processed everything before he noticed Ray flipping a blood-drenched body sprawled out over a desk right-side up.

_“Mikey?!”_

Frank slipped on the blood that pooled on the floor, then something crunched under his shoe when he found his footing. Mikey’s glasses. “Fuck...” He picked them up and clutched them tight, and he forced himself to get closer to Mikey.

“Frank, Jesus Christ, he’s still breathing.” Ray plugged his fingers into whichever of the multiple stab wounds seemed closest to an artery. “The fuck are you standing around for?! Call a fuckin’ ambulance!”

“Where’s Gerard?” Frank barked, though his thumb was already jammed against the emergency button. It slipped against the screen due to smears of blood, but he eventually got a dispatcher on the line.

“Just hold on, Mikey, fuckin’ hang in there...” Ray clutched his body as tightly as he could, trying to get some response out of him. He wished breathing could have been enough of a comfort, one sign that he was still alive. Breathing didn’t answer questions, though. Breathing couldn’t explain what had happened between the eight minutes they were left alone.

Frank’s frantic rambling soon sounded muffled in Ray’s ears the more time stretched out. It was difficult to focus on anything else besides Mikey’s severely torn shirt, the way his chest was barely even recognizable anymore, there were so many fucking holes in it. Ray just about broke down when he felt Mikey’s weak fingers curl helplessly around his elbow. “It’s okay...it’s gonna be okay, Mikey, we’re here. We’re getting you help.” His voice cracked, and all he wanted to do was curl up around him. His body almost kicked into flight mode when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but when he saw the words EMT written on the stranger’s hat, he allowed himself to be nudged away.

Both Ray and Frank were taken back out by the van with two officers. There were two cops, one with a notepad, and they both looked vaguely tense. Perhaps it was infectious due to Frank’s nature of being angry when he didn’t know what was going on, why his best friend was riddled with stab wounds.

“Can you tell me to the best of your ability what happened?” the notepad officer asked.

Ray clutched at his own arm. “Can...can someone go with him in the ambulance? He’s all alone and--”  
  
“Your friend’s in good hands right now, you’ll be able to follow him after you can give us a statement, um, sir, can you get off the phone?”

Frank took a step back. “Gerard’s gone, we couldn’t find him inside.”

“Who’s Gerard?”

“Mikey’s brother,” Ray answered. “Mikey...is the one in the ambulance.”

“Pick up, fucker!” Frank barked.

“Sir--” The other cop raised a hand. “--please, we only need a minute of your time.”

Ray’s eyes were immediately distracted when Mikey was wheeled out and taken to the back of the ambulance. “Shit, Mikey...”

“How did you two come to find your friend like this?” the notepad officer asked, trying to grab their attention again.

Ray huffed. “We were just doin’ a gig. Mikey lost his phone and he and Gerard went back inside to help him. We waited for, like, I dunno. Eight minutes? And when we went to check on ‘em, the whole place was fuckin’ dark and Gerard was gone.”

“Was there anyone else in the building at the time?”

“The staff, I guess. There was a bartender and, like...I dunno. Two other guys cleaning up.”

“Gee’s still not pickin’ up.” Frank shoved his phone back in his pocket before pushing his hair back.

The officers glanced at each other. “Those were the only people there? No customers hanging around?”

“They said the place was closed by the time we were packing up.” Ray’s tone got slightly aggressive, but he sighed to try and calm himself. “Listen, the ambulance is leaving, can we...?”

The notepad officer sighed. “Yeah. You got a number we can contact you at?”

Ray just shoved a business card for the band in the officer’s hand before he and Frank raced to get the van starting, and they hurried to follow the ambulance.

“Turn your hazards on, dude.” Frank told him, fumbling with his phone again.

“I think that’s only for funerals, Frank.” Ray thought aloud, gripping the wheel until his knuckles went white. His hands were still slippery from Mikey’s blood, but he was too hyperfocused on the flashing lights in front of him to care.

“Well, do it anyway!” Frank put the call on speaker, though there was nothing but ringing. “Come on, Gee.”

_“Hey, you’ve reached Ger--”_

Frank threw his phone against the dashboard and screamed into his palms.

Ray breathed in deeply. His mind desperately wanted to just zone all of this out, to the point he was sure he could actually feel his brain buzzing, but he planted his focus until they reached the doors outside of the emergency room.

Frank was the first to hop out, but he was immediately stopped by one of the attending nurses. “That’s our friend,” he pointed out, gesturing to the ambulance.

“Sir, you can’t park here. You’ll be obstructing other ambulances,” she explained.

“Fine, sure. Sorry. Can we just go in with him?” Frank tried to get closer to the stretcher, but the nurse held him back.

“We’re taking him into emergency surgery, we’ll let you know when you can see him. We’re doing all we can, okay?”

“Is your best gonna be enough?!” Frank snapped.

The nurse took a step back. “Please just park your van, sir. You’ll see your friend soon. What’s his name?”

Ray moved the van once the ambulance got out of the way, and although it was parked illegally in the corner of the lot, it was technically out of the way of the ambulances.

“Michael James Way, he was born S-September...fuck. Ray!” Frank turned back to Ray, who was running closer. “When the hell is Mikey’s birthday?”

“September 10th.”

“What year?” the nurse asked.

“Um, fuck. 80. 1980,” Frank stammered.

“Okay. Can we move you two into the waiting room now?” the nurse asked.

“Ray, maybe you should try calling Gee. He always picks up for you.” Frank tapped Ray’s chest with the back of his hand.

“Fine. fine. Go sit down or something before you get us kicked out.” Ray stepped off to the side to try calling Gerard, but he was redirected to voicemail, too. He knew the situation was bad before, worse than he’d ever been in, but hearing Gerard’s voicemail only dug the hole that much deeper.

He didn’t hang up immediately. Even if it was just a voicemail, it was good to hear Gerard’s voice for a few blessed seconds. “Gee...I dunno where you are, and I hope you’re okay. Just make it to Rutgers Hospital if you can...Mikey...”

Ray covered his mouth and hung up, muttering a string of curses under his breath. He took another moment to move his hands closer to his face in an attempt to rub some life back into it, until he saw the red smears all over his palms. “Mikey,” he repeated in a worried grumble.

When he stepped back inside, he found the closest bathroom to at least wash his hands and arms. He’d had his eyes closed the whole time he leaned over the sink, only trusting his sense of touch for fear of losing it watching the sink stain red. But scrubbing turned to scratching like he was Lady Macbeth.

Thankfully, when his eyes did open, the only red left behind were the welted lines his nails had left behind, so he just turned the water off and dried his skin to regroup with Frank.

Frank’s eyes flicked up to watch Ray come closer, and he sighed heavily. He’d been fiddling idly with Mikey’s broken glasses in the meantime. “You look a little better,” he muttered. “Your shirt’s still fucked, though.”

Ray ruffled Frank’s hair as he sat beside him. He tried to find something to respond with, but his mind was struggling to remember what words were for a moment.

“So--” Frank hung his head low. “--no Gee?”

Ray shook his head. “...Nah.” His jaw clenched hard when he felt Frank’s trembling hand grip his arm, but he didn’t pull away.

It was the longest night of their lives, sitting there and just staring off. Every so often, one of the staff would pop their heads out to give a minor update that Mikey was, at least, still alive, but surgery was still ongoing. One hour passed after another, and it seemed that Mikey was going to be stuck on that table forever.

Frank was getting scared that the doctors were just fucking with them; they had waited until the sky shifted from inky black to a hazy blue-grey. His head hurt from stress and dehydration. Ray wasn’t looking too great either.

And then, not a nurse or orderly, but a white coat came out to approach them.

“You’re friends of Mister Way, right?” the doctor asked.

“Yeah,” Ray croaked after a few seconds after making sure he wasn’t just seeing things.

“He’s stable for the time being, though his consciousness comes and goes.”

“So can we see him?” Frank asked, nearly cutting the doctor off. He pushed himself to stand.

The doctor just nodded and led the two back to the ICU room Mikey was in. He looked more robot than human at this point, with the massive amount of machines going in and out of his body.

Frank clutched the railing of Mikey’s bed, his breath withering slowly from his lungs. “Mikey...”

“We found eighteen lacerations in total, including damage to most of his major organs. Liver, lungs, heart, spine, and stomach,” the doctor explained. “Thankfully, most of the wounds hadn’t damaged the organs too badly. If he pulls through the next 48 hours, his chances of recovery will increase greatly.”

Ray nodded grimly. “...Okay.”

Frank could only take in a sharp inhale, staring hard at Mikey as if trying to wake him up with his mind.

“We’ll continue to run tests and monitor him throughout the night, but we’ll let you stay with him for as long as you need,” the doctor assured them.

Ray could feel his throat swell up slightly. That didn’t sound like Mikey’s chances were hopeful at all. He could feel it. Frank could feel it, and all Ray could think to do for the moment was pull up two chairs for the both of them while the waiting continued. Neither of them wanted to be there to watch Mikey die, but it was better than leaving him to die alone.

After an indeterminable amount of zoning out, Ray’s phone buzzed in his pocket. There was a slight moment of something between panic and hope before he saw the screen. Unknown number. Well, there went the hope. He stood again and moved into the hall so Frank couldn’t hear.

“Mister Toro?” It was one of the officers from the crime scene.

 _Fuck. Fucking fuck,_ Ray’s mind spat as he took a deep breath. “Yeah, how can I help you?”

There was a beat of silence, like a knife in Ray’s ear. “We’ve found your missing friend.” Another beat. Another shooting pain down the back of Ray’s neck. “Is there any possible chance you can come down and identify him?”

“Shit...” Ray muttered, and he blew out a deep breath. The brightness of the hospital ambiance intensified and gave him a shiver of nausea. “When?”

“As soon as possible would be ideal. The coroner’s going to have to run an autopsy for the ongoing case, and it would probably be best for you to identify him beforehand.”

“I-I’ll be there soon.” Ray swallowed thickly. His eyes flicked back to Mikey.

“He’s at Essex, so we should be right across the street,” the cop told him quietly. “We’re sorry for your loss, Mister Toro.”

Ray just hung up and took another moment so he wouldn’t break in front of Frank. He had half a mind to call Gerard again, grasping for blind hope that they were wrong, but he couldn’t. There was too much going on at once; hospitals were way too noisy and he was reaching his breaking point. He wanted a distraction before, but not like this.

When he returned to Mikey’s bedside, he gently rested his hand on Mikey’s elbow. It seemed to be the few parts of his body not hooked up with wires or tubes. “Hey...I’m gonna be back soon. But I gotta get your blood off my shirt and nobody fed Rocket yet. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, okay?”

Frank just turned to him with shock first. He knew automatically that Ray was hiding something. Something bad. Maybe Frank already understood the sunken look in Ray’s eyes, but he still couldn’t leave Mikey’s side. Not unless Ray told him outright what had happened, and he had to settle for nodding. “I’ll let you know if anything happens, good or bad.”

“Thanks, man.” Ray pat Frank on the shoulder before turning away.

The moment Ray had left the room, Frank buried his face in Mikey’s shoulder and shut his eyes tight, choking back sobs. “C’mon, Mikey...wake up. Please.”

  
  
  


Ray got out of the hospital as quickly as he could and shut himself inside the van, reveling in the silence for a few seconds before he pressed his head hard against the top of the steering wheel and screamed until his lungs shook. Once he breathed in again, he straightened his back and sniffed hard, shaking his head. He muttered curses under his breath as he started up the van.

Morgue first, home second.

Everything blurred again once Ray actually stepped inside the building. The smell of chemicals was just like the hospital, but even more intense and sickening. He only spoke minimally to whoever spoke to him first, and he was blindly led down hallways and cabinets and, goddamn, this place was cold and dull and terrible. It couldn’t have been real.

Ray hardly even remembered ending up in front of Gerard’s body, but it was him alright. Only his face and shoulders were uncovered, but it was enough. A sick part of his mind thought Gerard would be pissed that actually looking dead was a lot uglier and was a bad stage look. The other part just wanted to shake him and yell until he woke up. “Where was he found?” he croaked.

“Can you confirm that this is Gerard Way?” the coroner asked.

Ray huffed. “Yeah, it’s him. Where was he?”

“By the Passaic River,” the coroner answered. “Not in it, but on the bank.”

Ray had done what he came here to do. He saw Gerard and confirmed that he wasn’t coming back. What was Frank gonna say when he found out? What about Mikey?

“Mister Toro? Is there anyone we can contact for you?” the coroner asked, “We have references to grief counseling services for everyone who walks through our doors.”

“I just wanna go,” he admitted.

“You’re free to leave whenever you’re ready.”

Ray took that chance and left as calmly as he could, and drove back to the rowhome the four of them had shared. When the door opened, a grumpy black and white cat sat on the kitchen floor with her tail swishing back and forth. “Hey, Rocket...”

The cat stood to nudge Ray’s leg, and trot over to wait by her food bowl.

Ray just dumped a can in for her and lay on his back. He could hear echoes of time pass through the kitchen all at once, between hungover breakfasts and writing sessions and arguing who had to do the dishes next.

Was it just going to be two of them to come home now?

  
  
  


Frank had noticed how long Ray was gone, and he kept checking his phone every twenty minutes in hopes Ray would contact him. The fifth time he’d checked his phone, the monitors started going off, and the nurses were called in. Panicked, Frank immediately called Ray and stepped back to give the nurses more room.

The phone stopped ringing, but there was no voicemail. Frank double checked to see if he was still connected, and he was. “...Ray?”

“Yeah.” Ray’s voice was hardly there at all.

Frank’s stomach dropped. “Gerard...”

“His fucking body was found, dude...”

Frank pressed his forehead against the nearest wall and shut his eyes tight. It was real now. He wanted to throw his phone out the window.

Neither of them could say anything for a solid minute, until Ray spoke up again. “How’s Mikey?”

“I dunno, man. I fucking--" Frank covered his mouth and exhaled shakily. "His monitors and shit are going crazy."

“I’ll be back there soon,” Ray told him, and just hung up.

Frank still had too many questions, but Mikey was the priority now. He sat back down in his chair once the nurses were able to stabilize him again and held his hand tightly, pressing his fingers over Mikey’s wrist just to feel any sign of life. “Fucking god dammit,” he muttered, leaning over until his face was pressed into his knees. The world started to fade out, all the hospital noise sounded like drifted-off blurs as if he was listening from underwater. All he could see was Gerard’s stupid face frowning in frustration when Frank couldn’t hold still in that dingy fucking bathroom.

He reached for his phone one last time, but Gerard’s phone didn’t even ring anymore. Either the battery died or someone else turned it off.

This wasn’t happening.

_This wasn’t happening._

* * *

“Was it successful?”

Red light filtered around a candle-lit altar. Windows of stain glass depicting the fall of Lucifer and the rise of Hell towered up to the ceiling. Organ music churned out of a boombox placed on the floor. Three men stood in the form of a crooked triangle: an aged bald man with sunglasses and two men in black Venetian masks. One of the masked men discarded a dead crow into a burning trash can. “We did everything that the ritual required.”

The bald man nodded curtly. “Then it’s all a matter of waiting at this point. We must start preparing for Devil’s Night, and our uprising. With the power of the Crow in our grasp, we’ll be unstoppable. Keep track of the body, find out where he’s going to be buried.” Raising one leg, he used his heel to click the music off, and he turned to leave through an arched doorway.

“Yes, Papa."


	2. dream the crow black dream

“It’s been six months to the day since the--” Frank bit his tongue hard, then inhaled smoke until his throat burned. When he wanted a cigarette, not hell nor health insurance-mandated therapy time could stop him. “--since the murder. Still haven’t found the fuckers who did it. You’d think that some psychopaths who inject fucking bird blood into their victims might be a little easier to find.”

“I’m sorry justice wasn’t delivered yet.” An older woman stood next to him with her hands folded neatly in front of her. Blond still clung to her hair, which was loosely pulled back. She remained standing while Frank sat, seemingly uncomfortably, on a parking curb. “These things always take time, though. I’m sure the detectives are working as hard as they can.”

Frank sneered. As far as he could tell, nobody was doing shit. The case was probably already closed and moved on from. “...Sure,” he muttered, fighting the urge to extinguish his cigarette into his own arm. Or hers, for that matter. He knew that if he did that, though, she would have to report an act of self-harm and cart him into an institution. That was the last thing he needed, and so the cigarette butt rolled against the pavement below before it was crushed under Frank’s heel. He picked it up again so that the other staff wouldn’t find it lying around.

“C’mon, Hotshot. Let’s finish up inside.” The woman nudged him and opened a heavy metal door, letting Frank enter the building first.

Frank groaned and hauled himself into his feet so he could drag himself back into the therapist’s office and plop himself down on the provided couch. He’d never admit it, but the one good thing about being here was the Home-Goods-esque decorative cushions were nice to rub his palm across. Oddly soothing when he needed to talk about the worse things.

She sat down in her armchair across from him, a coffee table with stacks of reference packets separating them. “So. Six months now, huh? You’re angry...and what else?”

“Do I need to be anything else?” Frank chewed on the inside of his lip. “Gee hardly ever did anything wrong, s’far as I can tell. And Mikey’s too young for  _ any _ of this shit. They didn’t  _ deserve _ this!” With a huff, he leaned forward with his elbows pressing hard into his knees.

“But you have shown signs of improvement.” A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “How’s the new business with your other friend? Ray?”

“It’s fine.” Frank sighed. “I’m just-- I’m baffled. This is the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard of, I-I-- I wanna know what the fuck was going through this shitbrain’s head. Or the group of ‘em! It took like, what? Ten fucking minutes and two innocent people are just mowed down like that? Not even, it was worse! It’s gotta be some sorta precursor to a Jonestown fuckin’ thing.”

“Frank--”

“Dr. Fenning!” Frank retorted, half-mocking her. Even still, his voice shook and he could feel his eyes start to sting.

The therapist leaned back in her chair and fiddled idly with her necklace. She stayed silent and observant.

“Listen. I’m not gonna stop being angry until I know why. Gerard was a good man. He was loud and fucking talented and he was gonna  _ be _ somethin’. We...were gonna be...” Frank dug the heel of his palm into his eye socket to keep his face dry, and he sniffled. “Is my hour up yet?”

Dr. Fenning checked her phone. “Just about. See you in group on Thursday?”

Frank scowled. “Can’t wait...” He scrawled his sign-out time next to his name and hauled ass out of the building, scrambling for another cigarette. By the time he was holding one between his teeth and fumbling around with his lighter, he heard an ugly  _ caw _ from nearby and flinched when a crow flew past him.

The crow landed on a flowerbed nearby, its head tilted as it watched Frank.

“Watch where you’re flyin’ huh?” He lit the cigarette and turned away. “Gonna get yourself flattened. Or maybe stabbed eighteen times.”

The city drilled down on his senses fast. There was nothing he could do about the ratty urban smell, but he could drown out the blaring car horns and meandering business of it all. Earbuds were promptly shoved in and he just set his music to shuffle. The Cure started playing, and that was decent enough not to skip. It was good enough to focus on the walk home.

Even with some of his senses calmed, Frank couldn’t shake off his anxiety completely. Gerard was always able to do a spot-on Robert Smith impression, and Cure riffs were always good practice songs for Mikey. All those nights spent in either of their bedrooms, just watching Gee strut around to the lyrics, Frank wanted to go back. He longed to dream of it again, at least, just to step away from the ache for a few hours.

Frank ended up on autopilot at some point; it was a lot easier these days to sink into memories and forget to watch where he was going, and he was lucky this time not to have accidentally walked in front of a car. Bikers avoided him easy enough, and forget the fruitless call of street vendors.

The garage door was open, revealing the inside of their new workshop. Ray was leaned over a table tweaking the pegs of a twelve-string acoustic. Rocket lay curled up in a plush bed that was labeled ‘MANAGER’ nearby, eyes squinted. When Ray looked up to see Frank returned, he just smiled brightly. “How’d it go?”

Frank turned the music off and shrugged. “As well as to be expected. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I get it, dude.” Ray stepped away from the table and over to a mini fridge to toss Frank a beer. “We got someone else, should be coming around in an hour or so. And then I thought we could close up and head over?”

Frank spat out the remainder of his cigarette on the sidewalk before formally entering the workshop and scratched Rocket behind the ears. “Yeah. You got everything ready?”

Ray kept himself from beaming, and he glanced over to a rectangular case leaned up by the door leading inside the house. “Yeah. He’s gonna fuckin’ love it.”

If there was anything that could take away from the dismal black gunk clogging up Frank’s mind, it was Ray’s stupid, unfathomable perkiness. Then again, they’d worked hard on their first order. Nobody had actually ordered it, it was more like a project between the two, but its completion was more satisfying than words could describe.

A crooked smile stretched over Frank’s mouth. “Yeah. Anyway, I’m gonna shower first.”

“Oh? First time in two weeks,” Ray teased.

Frank nearly shoved Ray off his stool as he passed him by, the sound of Ray’s playful laughter fading in the background as he entered through the kitchen and trudged up the stairs. After grabbing clean boxers and jeans from the dryer, Ray’s voice in the back of his head scolding him for never finishing his fucking laundry, he tossed the clothes on the bathroom floor and started up the water.

He stripped down and stepped in, cursing that the water was only lukewarm,  _ fuck city pipes _ , and he just leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. Opening his mouth, he swished water around and spat out the remaining taste of cigarettes. 

The best thing about showers, at least for Frank’s case, was it was the easiest place not to think. A quarter of the time, he just stood there until someone else in the house yelled at him about being the reason the water bill was always so fucking high. This time, though, he did remember to soap down his face and body.

When his hand ran over his freshest tattoo, though, that little bathroom graffiti he’d decided to get anyway out of spite, he scratched lightly over the fresh scabbing.  _ “That’s art theft, dude,”  _ his mind echoed, but he peeked on the other side of the curtain, just in case. Still nothing.

“Stupid...” he muttered to himself, and poured an excess of shampoo over his overgrown layers of hair. He’d lost interest in maintaining the color or shape of it ever since the band was unexpectedly broken up. “If whoever drunkenly scribbled the shit, they woulda left their signature or something. Fuck you.”

  
  
  
  


The customer eventually came and went, an order for Frank after being convinced enough by his wild designs. He’d glanced over the references and gladly accepted the job, though it seemed a little too obvious that he had somewhere else he wanted to be. Not that he meant to rush the consultation, but someone was, indeed, waiting for them.

Ray locked up the house while Frank started the van, eyeing a black case laying in the back. He smiled all over again, and once Ray was in, they drove off to the hospital.

For the last six months, they’d come every day to visit. Pay for the stupid parking fine, sign in, eventually even getting friendly with all the receptionists, get cleared and given visitor’s passes, then ushered off to Mikey’s room.

Mikey, previously playing with the shitty hospital food, immediately beamed with Frank stepped into the room first. Ray had to stay behind to get the gift checked out for safety. “Took you long enough, I’ve been waiting forever,” Mikey commented.

“Shut up.” Frank chuckled, and pulled up a chair. “We had to wait on someone to bring by a new order or somethin’. We didn’t mean to keep you.”

“It’s good that things sound like they’re picking up.” Mikey was more occupied slicing his jello into smaller and smaller pieces rather than eating it.

Frank shrugged. “Slow start, but it’s a start. The workshop’s finally all set up, and we got a sign in the making.”

Mikey snorted. “I still find it funny that now you fix guitars after all that abuse you put Pansy through.”

“Hey.” Frank poked Mikey hard in the shoulder. “She’s choked me out a few times, so I think we’re pretty even.”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “You choke yourself with that fucking guitar strap, crazy ass.”

Frank just smirked in response, folding his arms over the back of his chair so he could rest his chin on them. “Your hand’s looking good. What’d they say about the progress?”

Mikey’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t hold back his grin anymore. “I’m getting released on your birthday,” he whispered as if it was a secret. “I still gotta come back weekly for PT and shit, since the nerve in my arm is still kinda busted...but hey! Freedom!”

Frank lit up. “Dude, that’s awesome! You can finally come home.” He stood and fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt, unable to keep still. “Well, we came here to give you somethin’ to keep you occupied, but uh, I guess it’s more of a congrats gift. That’s a thing, right?”

Mikey snorted. “Yeah, I guess.”

As if it were planned, Ray stepped into the room with a big rectangular case in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other. “Sorry I’m late, the shop manager was making a fuss.”

“You brought me coffee?!” Mikey lit up with excitement. “Best day ever!”

“Shut up, dude.” Ray chuckled and passed the coffee off to Frank so he could lay the case gently over Mikey’s thighs.

Mikey shifted as carefully as he could to sit up more without jostling what little wires and tubes remained stuck in him. Ray helped him move his food tray out of the way first before Mikey flipped open the locks, one after the other. “Hey, beautiful.”

The bass looked cleaner than last he’d seen it. Not that he was a chaotic presence like Frank and even Ray at some points, but they’d done a good job buffing out the dents. Or maybe Ray did; as they said in the past, Ray was the repairs guy and Frank did customizing. Besides the tune-up, there was one other thing that stood out.On the back of the neck were written three familiar words.

VERY MUCH ALIVE

Gerard’s handwriting never looked so clear, and Mikey fell silent, until he uttered a soft “Oh...”

“I, uh, thought it fit. He loved poetic irony.” Frank stared down at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. “Y’know.”

Mikey had to take his glasses off before they got too foggy, and he kept running his fingers slowly over the new words. “Yeah.” He swallowed hard with a shaky smile, then carefully pulled Frank in for a hug. “It’s perfect.”

Ray ruffled his hair, but was promptly pulled in for a hug next. “We love you, Mikey.”

In any other case, that would have been Mikey’s cue to shove them and tell them to shut up, but he couldn’t let go of them for another minute. “So you guys gonna come pick me up or what?”

“We’ll ask the doctors what time they’ll release you, and promise we won’t be late,” Ray answered once he stood up straight again.

“Sick. I just wanna be home again.” Mikey’s fingers twitched and trembled over the frets, trying not to get frustrated. He knew it was going to be a work in progress for a while until he could be as good as before.

“Not much longer, dude. Promise.” Frank pat him gently on the shoulder.

* * *

An older blond woman rested a hand on Papa’s shoulder. “Everyone is exactly where they should be.” Her eyes shifted. “Well...almost.”

Papa gave a vague wave of his hand. “The brother’s not important. Maybe it’s good that he lived; maybe we can use him...for collateral. Thank you, Sister Imperator.”

She nodded proudly. “Devil’s Night rises with tonight’s moon. Our long-awaited work is finally coming to fruition. Ghouls are stationed at his grave, awaiting his arrival right now.”

“And then...he comes back here?” Papa asked to confirm.

“We keep him here, we keep the crow out until we can be sure he’s loyal to us. As long as he doesn’t get his memories back, he can’t turn on us.”

Papa nodded, rubbing his chin. “Very good, yes.”

Sister Imperator circled to his front to look him in the eye. “And when he arrives here, you know what to do next?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Papa scoffed, then rubbed his chin again. “Yes. I am the talking guy. Don’t worry, I wrote down my speech and everything. I think it’s pretty epic.”

Sister Imperator sucked air through her teeth, then sighed. “...Good enough.”

* * *

The nights were getting colder, and usually, Frank was a huge fan of the weather. Summer sucked ass, and he loved long nights. At this point, he and Gerard would’ve probably skipped the bridge to New York City and ended up drunk in some hole in the wall, maybe ransacking thrift stores for whatever stupid costumes they could come up with this year, last-minute.

And here Frank was instead, nudging the topsoil over Gerard’s grave with his boot. Hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his mouth contorted in a frustrated glower. He wasn’t sure what to say at first; he’d already been here the same day of every month since the funeral, and everything he’d wanted to say to this pathetic pile of dirt, he did. And here he returned.

“You sick of me yet?” he mumbled, “Probably...considering you’ve never said shit from the afterlife. I mean, listen. I can’t blame you if you’re mad. We were all just tired and I didn’t mean to be a dick. You know if I’d have fuckin’ known that you were gonna be jumped and murdered, then--” He stopped himself and groaned, leaning his head back. “Jesus Christ, this is drivin’ me nuts. Anyway, uh, Mikey’s getting sprung tomorrow. So I guess he’ll come to soak in the view.”

He rolled his eyes at himself, and pressed the tip of the boot against the epitaph of the headstone.

_ SO LONG AND GOODNIGHT _

“Sorry you never got to finish that song.” Frank fell silent again, digging his nails into the heels of his palms. “Anyways, uh...hope the afterlife is cool. Guess I’ll, fuckin’, see you tomorrow.” He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, then finally turned to walk away and leave the graveyard.

What he failed to notice, though, were the two masked men clutching shovels hunkered down behind a mausoleum. “Fuck, I was afraid he was never gonna leave,” one whispered, still being cautious.

The other gave the first a nudge. “We didn’t even get the signal yet. Just wait.” They didn’t have to wait for long, though, because they both stood up straight at the sight of a lone crow flying overhead.

It landed on top of Gerard’s headstone, turned its head from side to side, then pecked at the curved granite.

The Ghouls nodded to each other, and got to digging. The crow seemed to squawk and fly at them every so often, but they were both informed that it would never go too far away from its vessel. This was going to be an easy grab.

  
  
  
  


Frank couldn’t sleep. He’d laid in bed, just watching hour after hour go by, moonbeams passing from his floor to his feet and up his legs, until he just got sick of staying still with no results. Padding down the stairs, he pulled out a can of iced coffee from the fridge and trudged into the workshop. If anything, he might as well spend his time being productive. He opened the garage door, the night chill keeping him a little more alert, then tacked up reference photos for his next paint job so he could start on the stencils. There were no sounds but the steam vents outside and his pencil gliding across paper. Or, at least it stayed that way for a whole two minutes.

A familiar  _ caw _ echoed by, and a crow fluttered down to stick a perfect landing on the workshop floor. It hopped around a few times and crooned.

Frank was content to let it stay and hang out, though Rocket’s fur stood up on edge. Pushing his own bed off the table as he leapt, the cat caught Frank’s attention immediately as it bounded for the invader.

“Hey! Rocket!” Frank threw the pencil down to rush after the crazy beast, who, in turn, was following a now-airborn crow around to the back of the building where the fire escape awaited them. “Piece’a shit, get back here!”

The crow perched two flights above, but Frank was able to catch the cat on the first level. The bird cawed again, and again, until it started sounding like it was trying to say words.

With Rocket growling in his arms and claws digging into the soft flesh of his elbows, he caught his breath. “The fuck is wrong with you, it’s just a bird! Chill out! I told Gee, we shoulda just fuckin’ got a dog instead--”

_ “Mike!” _

He blinked and turned his gaze up. Did that fucking bird just talk?

_ “Mike! Mikey! Mikey!” _

Frank had forgotten how to breathe. “W...where did you come from?” he asked, completely tossing away all thoughts of how crazy this situation was. “What do you know about Mikey?”

The crow flapped frantically, then swan dove for Frank.

Releasing Rocket from his arms to raise them in defense, Frank stumbled back. His back curved enough to send his weight toppling over the railing. His vision blurred, but there was a form of a person there, standing under his fall. The shadows of the alley obscured too much, and Frank didn’t have the time to wonder if the white-painted face with black X’s over the eyes was real or not. In the few seconds of his descent, he could only assume it was death coming for him next in a mockery of his old stage paint. But the face...

“GEE!”

  
  
  
  


This wasn’t Frank’s idea of trying to get to sleep, but he knew he was dreaming this time. Lucid dreaming, so he heard it being called once. It had happened to him only a handful of times since the murder, but it never got any less unnerving. He rubbed his aching head with a groan, unable to get his vision to focus. But from as far as he could tell, the colors were reminiscent of the last bar they’d played. He was sitting, so he was probably at the counter.

The colors then clicked off all at once, and Frank was submerged into darkness for just a second. Then a spotlight hit the stage.

Gerard was front and center stage, covered shoulder-to-toe in black feathers. Well, not toe so much as talon. His eyes had gone beady and orange, though the rest of his face seemed as similar as Frank remembered. He clutched a microphone for dear life, even though there was no music playing.

Frank wanted to move closer, but he was afraid of moving from the bar stool. Something gave him the unnerving anxiety that the floor had disappeared from under him. “Gee. Am I dead?”

“Mikey,” Gee croaked.

“Y-yeah, Mikey’s fine. He lived, Gee. But where am I?”

“Mikey!” Gerard’s voice became clearer, but more frantic.

Frank huffed. “I’m Frank! Remember?”

The colors around the bar started to come back, but all in different hues of red. Gerard tossed the mic aside, causing screeching feedback, and he stepped down on the main floor. “Frank. Frank. They’re gonna come back.”

Frank could feel an icy chill wash over his skin. He roughened up with goosebumps.

“Stay outta the way, Frank. Keep Mikey away.”

“Away from what?!” Frank clutched the counter behind him as Gerard closed the distance between them.

Gerard raised one massive wing high, and slapped Frank hard enough across the face to wake him up.

In the matter of nanoseconds, Frank saw everything Gerard experienced that night. Mikey, crying out for all of it to stop while Gerard’s muscles were practically obsolete. Mikey’s chest was a waterfall of blood. They pressed him down on the desk like they were readying him for a crucifixion, and the knife still kept coming until the screaming stopped. And then he grew further and further into the distance. Into the darkness. There was a terrible sting that festered throughout the side of his neck, and slowly down to his chest.

  
  
  
  


“Frank, you stupid shit! Wake up!” Ray hovered over Frank's body and shook his shoulder violently.


	3. we shall never forget and never forgive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for everyone that's read the story so far! it really means a lot to me <3
> 
> i updated the tag list a little for a future warning.

A heartbeat starts at a slow pace. Glacially slow. Breath follows. Rigor Mortis subsides and allows lungs to expand as much as they can, but the second breath is frantic. Oxygen had been all but depleted from whatever tight space he was trapped in. At first, there was nothing that he could do but start coughing until some vile liquid started bubbling at the back of his throat. He had to wait for the blood to flow back into all extremities to get his arms to move, much less turn over. And yet, the threat of drowning didn’t seem to be an issue at all.

There was some sort of noise above him that he couldn’t place. It started out quiet at first, and only got louder. Then there was a noise he could place. Voices, two at the very least. He couldn’t understand what they were saying through the contents of his cramped space, but he knew someone was coming to get him out of here. Thank fuck.

A loud  _ bang _ made him gasp, and in turn, start up a coughing fit. A few hard taps followed, and then a  _ crack _ .

“Oh shit, that smells terrible! Fucking--” one of the outside voices croaked.

“Well, yeah. Corpses emit really terrible gases, and considering the age--”

“I didn’t dig down here for a science lesson. Is it safe to open?”

“Should be.”

“Fine. Then  _ you _ do it.”

More shuffling about, and finally a freezing wave of oxygen washed over his body. His muscles still weren’t in working order, and at this point, he wasn’t sure if he should be scared of two masked men staring down at him. He wasn’t sure of anything, come to think of it.

“Uh...hey there.” One waved to him. “You alive?”

“His eyes are open, dumbass.”

“People can die with their eyes open. Besides, look. He’s moving them.” The second masked man leaned his hand down to snap his fingers right in front of the body’s eyes.

He had enough strength to flinch now, and shift his hand up to his cheek. Not enough strength to bat the hand away.

“Let’s just get him outta here, Alpha.” Together, the two housed the body out from the coffin and rolled him onto the frosted grass.

Finally, the liquid drained out of his mouth, dribbling over his lower lip and down his chin. Something in the back of his mind registered that he should have been cold, but he just wasn’t. His fingers flexed out and grabbed a handful of the grass, but none of the frost melted against his skin. He flinched again when he was hoisted up by his shoulder, and a jolt of energy shot through his body like lightning. A hand raised up and gripped the mask to the man on his left.

_ “Gerard, please get up!” _

Blurry stills of red invaded his sight, followed by the heavy smell of iron.

He was shoved back to the ground, rolling next to the edge of his open grave.

“Shit, he gets up quick!”

The vessel-- Gerard, that must have been his name. Gerard sucked in a breath and pushed himself back up. “Now I can,” he croaked. “You...you did something to me.”

Alpha leaned over and unsheathed two daggers from his belt. “Comply, Vessel, or we’re going to have to put you into submission.

“You killed someone, didn’t you?” Gerard shifted and picked up a shovel, pointing it at Alpha. “You-- you killed me?”

Alpha shook his head. “No,  _ I _ didn’t kill you.” He was blocked once with the handle of the shovel, but his second blade managed to get Gerard between the sixth and seventh rib. “Now calm down.”

Gerard wheezed, but the pain wasn’t unbearable. He was still just as strong, so once he snapped back into focus, he whipped the head of the shovel around against the side of Alpha’s head. Pulling the dagger back out definitely hurt, though he became mesmerized by the rivulet of blood and formaldehyde slowly close into a trickle, then close up completely. He did his best to wipe away the excess, but it only smeared across his hand.

This revelation definitely kept him distracted, though, and he felt a hard force knock him sideways, back into the grave. He was sandwiched between the coffin and the other mask, though instinct took over. Luck would have it that he hadn’t dropped the dagger, and it swiftly plunged into the gut of the body pinning him down. Gerard crawled out from under him, and pressed his foot down on his chest. “Stay there.”

Alpha struggled back to his feet, fumbling for his other dagger. When Gerard crawled back out of the grave, he widened his stance and lifted the knife up to chest level.

Gerard eyed the knife when he was back on his feet. He’d never gotten in real combat before, but he just  _ knew _ what to do. When the blade came slicing at his chest, he made a reach for Alpha’s wrist, then missed. It came back around, but Gerard just shifted backward and ducked, wobbling slightly when he got closer to the hole’s edge.

It only took a second of trying to keep himself balanced when his shirt was gripped in a tight fist and yanked forward. Gerard, at least, got a good grip of the hand holding the knife, preventing it from striking again.

“Stop! Resisting!” Alpha grunted, still trying to drive the knife forward. Into his arm or shoulder or neck or anything.

Gerard’s eyes widened, and fury overtook him. He slid a foot behind Alpha’s ankle and shoved him onto his back, pouncing to pin him. “Why am I here?” he panted, another line of chemical saliva dripping from his lip. “What the fuck do you want with me?!”

Alpha jerked his legs in one way and the other, but was unable to get free. “Y-you’re supposed to help the Church--” he struggled, “...Emeritus says it will be so.”

“Eme-what the fuck?” Gerard grabbed for the knife, which ended up in both of them fighting for control with one one limb each to use. Gerard’s hand got slashed up pretty good, but he finally managed to get a grip on the weapon and point it at the bottom of Alpha’s chin. “Where? Where’s the Church?”

Alpha sighed, but he didn’t give up fighting. “The end of Victoria. They’re waiting for you there.”

Gerard huffed harder, and managed to win in strength. “For what you did to Mikey--” The blade resisted at first, but finally started slowly tearing through the flesh under, then inside, Alpha’s mouth. “--I’ll do to you!” Once he grew weaker, Gerard aimed for all the spots Mikey was hit until his hands were shaking violently.

He hunched over the limp body, gripping the knife handle until it felt like the skin over his knuckles were going to tear open. When he caught his breath, he turned back toward his grave. Blinking, he started looking at the headstones around it, and something suddenly seemed off. His name was right there, Gerard Arthur Way, but there should have been another one next to him.

“Mike!” The crow flapped overhead and landed on Gerard’s shoulder. “Mike!”

Gerard’s brow knotted. Mike was the one crying out to him; he must have been the one Gerard couldn’t save.

For the final time, he hopped back down the hole, towering over the squirming body between his stance. Finally, he removed the mask to get a good look at the face underneath.

His eyes spotted a small tattoo by his jaw-- the upside-down cross intertwined with a three-quarter circle. Gerard’s hand wrapped around his throat, despite blood having bubbled inside it.

_ “Gee? Gerard, you okay? Shit!” _

“You drugged the fucking beer.” His hand squeezed tighter, and the writhing below him slowed. “You made me fucking helpless. You made me  _ watch! _ ” At that point, he was just talking to a corpse, but he kept slamming his head down against the coffin’s surface until tears streamed down his cold cheeks.

Although it seemed impossible to calm down, Gerard eventually let go and threw Alpha’s body into the empty grave. He gave a passing thought to fill the dirt back in, but that would waste too much time. He needed to go back to where it happened. He needed more information. Gripping two stolen masks in his hand, he fled the graveyard and high-tailed it for the bar where Mike was taken from him. Besides, it was better for the bodies to be found. He wanted whomever was in charge of this operation to know vengeance was coming.

The crow took off and led Gerard away from anyone who might still be outside at this hour, be it drug dealers or workers just trying to get their rent paid. He didn’t want to be seen; the less people who noticed him, the better.

Police tape clung with their last threads to the door of the bar, and he tore it off and concentrated to kick hard enough to damage the lock keeping the abandoned crime scene tucked away. Once he slid inside, he closed the door again and submerged himself in complete darkness.

_ “Mikey? Mikey, I can’t fuckin’ see...I can’t-- fuck, I'm going fucking blind!" _

_ “They just turned the lights off, you’re not blind.” _

He shuffled forward, somehow managing his way across the main floor without bumping into anything. He stopped right at the base of the stage, and knelt down to touch the raised platform. Waves of angry guitars swam through his brain, but he saw a hand reach out and take something resting right behind the back curtain.

_ “My phone. I must’ve left it near the stage or something.” _

_ “Way to go numbnuts--” _

Two more faces entered his vision. They blurred in and out of focus, but one thing stood out. X’s over two eyes, like...

_ “Can’t be more obvious about lookin’ dead than this.” _

He moved away from the stage, then, and shuffled back into a narrow, short hallway. The air got thinner here, the smell of his closed casket swirling back around him stained with something else. Iron. His hand clutched the frame of an open doorway.

_ “Alright, let’s make this quick. Sister Imperator said we don’t have a lot of time to get this ritual done properly.” Alpha flipped a springloaded knife in his hand while two other masked assailants dragged their captives into the room. _

_ Mikey kicked and flailed as hard as he could, spitting streams of colorful curses and screaming to let them go. _

_ Gerard was forced to sit upright on the floor. His whole body was numb, like sleep paralysis. His jaw was clutched by the mask keeping him from falling over. The leather of the glove was pungent right under his nose, and the only feeling that was able to crawl through his nerves was a deep shudder as a whisper ghosted over the shell of his ear. _

_ “Keep your eyes open now.” _

_ “Gerard, please get up!” Mikey grunted, continuing to thrash up until his collarbone was pierced with the knife. Then the barrage of precisely placed stabs rained down on him, Mikey’s cries only becoming more helpless. _

Gerard knelt next to where the desk should have been. The desk they pressed Mikey down on. He clawed at the dirty floor, remembering the way Mikey’s arms hung off the edges like they were preparing him for a crucifixion. “Fuck...fuck! Mikey!” He clawed harder until the floorboards splintered against his nails. “I-I’m here now! I--”

_ “He’s seen enough, the kid’s done for. Get him into phase two.” _

He crawled back, struggling to his feet until he hit the bar counter. He covered his face and whimpered, hunching over until the memories settled themselves. Instinct once again dragged him to the front door again, his shoulder checking the metal.

_ Two van doors slammed shut, Gerard was laid out on the back floor. Voices started to get hazy, but he remembered the face of a skull, and two milky white eyes staring down at him. His inner elbows stung, and the pain grew under his skin, intensifying with every slowing beat his heart had left. He was dying. He was dying alone. Mikey was dying alone. The last thought he could remember before all faded to black was trying to imagine both of them, laying side by side. X’s over their eyes. _

Gerard had curled up on his side, on the floor. He hugged himself as tight as he could and struggled to breathe. He knew he had to get up, he needed to find out what happened to Mikey after he was dragged away, but his veins were burning.

The crow squawked somewhere nearby. “Mikey!” it practically scolded, and it flew closer to tug at Gerard’s dirty strands of hair with its beak.

“I know. I know, fuck!” Gerard growled through gritted teeth, and pushed himself to his feet. As he scrambled for something to grab onto, his hands pressed against the wall for leverage. Cold steel thumped against his fingertips: circuit breakers. He tore the door open and flicked on every switch he could, though most weren’t working now.

The only lights that seemed to work were behind the bar counter. He stepped over and only found dusty shelves with dead bugs and the occasional paperclip or--  _ aha, _ a flat-tip permanent marker. Although the mirror between the mid-height shelves was also dusted over, there was still just enough visibility for Gerard to uncap the marker and draw X’s over his eyes.

“Mikey!” the bird reminded him, waddling close to the door frantically.

Gerard nodded, grabbed the two stolen masks, and finally left to continue his search.

The streetlights had all dimmed for the night. No windows were illuminated, and the sky above was inky with city pollution. Gerard stumbled through aimless alleys, only hardly keeping up with the flight of the crow. Though he had pretty good control of his body now, the thing that truly drove him forward was the determination to find Mikey. The word kept repeating over and over like ten scratched records playing simultaneously.

Gerard bumped his shoulder into a corner and stopped to catch his breath, grunting curses in frustration. At least he could see where the crow was through its eyes, he could see where it was going, and he committed it to memory. He gave his arms a quick shake and carried on until he stumbled again. There wasn’t any obstacle in his path, but the crow had found someone and knocked his focus off-balance.

Keeping himself upright, he jogged to the end of the alley and stood across the street from where his crow was perched. This was different-- the open room where light flooded out was different. It used to be so much more empty, and he was tempted to explore if not for the threat of being seen in the light, or the pull of someone else’s voice. A voice he trusted, and more importantly, a voice that knew Mikey.

Waiting for a car to roll by first, he then crossed the street and inched closer, thankful that the other’s back was turned to him.

A cat stared him down with his tail raised up in the air, but that’s not what caught his attention. Fingers curling into loose fists, he stood and watched.

“What do you know about Mikey?” the familiar stranger asked.

The crow swooped to return to Gerard’s shoulder, but in the process, accidentally taking Frank down with him. His eyes widened, and his immediate reflex was to reach his arms out to try and catch him. He assumed with his new advanced strength, it should have worked.

It didn’t exactly work like that. Not only did Gerard gasp and lose focus when his name was suddenly shouted, but his legs buckled under the weight and his shoulders were thrust back, off-balance when a head and torso made impact with him. Thankfully, he had softened the blow and pulled Frank’s body in at an angle that his neck wouldn’t snap. Frank landed belly-up sprawled over him, though it seemed the force of the fall was enough to knock him out.

The back of Gerard’s head vibrated with pain. “...Ow,” he muttered, nudging the unconscious body off him. There was another sudden weight against his leg, and saw the cat pressing his front paws against it. “You’re not Mike-- no. Mikey either, are you?”

Not that he expected the cat to answer, but before there was even time allotted for that, one of the windows above lit up. Gerard panicked, and he pushed himself up and was about to haul the body with him. His hands brushed over his face, though, and he froze up again.

  
  
  
  


“I don’t think corpses’ eyes look like bruises, Gee. I mean--” Gerard was looking at himself, but he wasn’t in control of his body. He didn’t even think of the words before he said them. All he could do was watch the image of him fuss around in a mirror with eyeshadow. “I’m pretty sure they can get puffy and shit ‘cause of whatever-mortis, but that?”

“Wow, when did you get a degree in mortuary sciences?” his image sneered, not even bothering to turn around.

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” The voice he spoke with definitely wasn’t his, but he knew it. It was a comforting voice, like something he wanted to keep close to his chest.

The other Gerard just rolled his eyes and dragged eyeliner across his lower water line. “Whatever. Not like I’m going for medical accuracy anyway, it doesn’t exactly fit our image.”

He sat up in bed-- oh, he was laying back in a nested pile of blankets that smelled like skin and tobacco and cheap conditioner --and planted his feet on the floor. “Might as well go for, like, full on transparency at this point.”

“Frank, the fuck are you on about?” Other Gerard turned around with an incredulous expression.

“Here.” He stood up fully to pluck the eyeliner out of the other’s hand and grip his face. He could feel his chest start to thrum in rapid procession, having Other Gerard’s stubbly jaw pressed between his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t even have to tell him to do anything, he just obediently closed his eyes and waited for the eyeliner to streak over them. He made thick lines in X-formation, and gently skimmed the pad of his thumb along his cheekbone without thinking. “Y’know, like old-cartoony style. Can’t be more obvious about lookin’ dead than this.”

When Other Gerard’s eyes fluttered open slowly, wow, dark colors really made his eyes brighten up, he quickly turned his head away and set the pencil down. His arms folded loosely.

“...Nah, I dunno. Just too much for me.” he decided, rubbing away the fresh work until his eye sockets were completely charcoal-colored.

“Fine.” ‘Frank’ glanced at his reflection, taking in the features of how he used to look whenever this moment happened. His throat felt thick, and he chewed on his inner lip. “I call dibs, then.”

  
  
  
  


“Frank?! Fucking-- no, no, you crusty rat bastard, don’t fucking do this!”

Gerard had leaped up into the fire escape and hauled himself up to the top platform just in time when someone else came to check on Frank. He wasn’t Mikey, either, but he brought the same warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He was tapping Frank roughly on the cheek. “Frank, you stupid shit! Wake up!” His voice was frantic; Gerard could hear his panicked pulse all the way from up there.

Frank’s eyes fluttered open, and Gerard’s nerves froze when he knew he was seen. He quickly turned away and hopped onto the roof to hide. Mikey felt so close, yet not, at the same time. But all Gerard knew was this was where he should be, and that was the best lead he had.

* * *

Papa Nihil’s fingers drummed impatiently on his desk, his eyes shifting between Emeritus and Imperator. “He...ran away.”

Emeritus’s fingers were tented over his lips. “Does it count as escape? We weren’t technically keeping him captive, but he killed two ghouls.”

“We didn’t even get a chance to capture him.” Imperator huffed. “I told you that the job needed more people involved.”

“Graverobbing isn’t exactly a quick feat, nor is it a quiet one. The more people that went on the mission, the more risk would be put on us,” Nihil countered.

“Alpha got shit done. Omega didn’t mess around either, so they should have been fine on their own,” Emeritus added. “ _ You _ said he wasn’t going to remember anything upon his awakening.”

“So I underestimated just how quickly he would find his true purpose.” Imperator sighed.

Emeritus stared at her blankly. “You...underestimated. The spirit of vengeance.”

“It was Nihil’s idea in the first place.” She eyed the older man.

His milky white eyes widened and he made a noise of offense.

“I only tried my best to make sure the plan went as smoothly as possible. Because I do everything for you two.” She had both men rolling her eyes at her, and a tense silence filled the room. “Pointing fingers isn’t going to get us a solution. We still have time to bring him in. Convert him.”

“Well, if he remembers why he is truly here, he should be coming to search for us soon,” Nihil said. “Is it just a waiting game at this point?”

Imperator gave a confident smile. “We bring him incentive, obviously.”

“The brother?” Emeritus asked, raising a brow.

“There are still too many eyes on him at the moment, and we simply don't have the time to wait or to formulate a plan to snatch him. But he’s not the only one the vessel cares for.” Imperator’s phone started to ring just them, and she pulled it out to see who was calling. Her smile grew into a full grin. “See? Our unholy lord provides.”

“It’s a little rude to take a call right in the middle of a meeting.” Nihil rested his jaw in his palm, frowning.

“Do you want our chance of absolute power going to waste, hm?” Imperator stood up. “Trust me. We’ll have the vessel in our clutches in no time.”

Emeritus gave a shrug of defeat and slouched in his chair as he watched her leave the room. “She’s gonna tell us about her plan, right?”

“I’m sure she will.” Even still, there was some hesitation in Nihil’s voice, and his eyes remained to the door. “You need to go get ready for your morning sermon. Go, now.”

Emeritus blinked. “So...the meeting is over?”

“Yes, obviously!” Nihil kept his voice down, though his aggravation was present. “Please go get ready.”

Emeritus stood, back up toward the door. “You usually say when the meeting is officially over, so I thought it best to wait until you said.”

“Oh.  _ Well _ .” Nihil’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Considering one of us had already gotten up and left, I thought that was enough of a sign that the fucking meeting was over.”

“Okay, okay!” Emeritus opened the door and slipped out, mumbling to himself. “No need to be so crotchety about it, fuck.”

Nihil straightened his back and let out a long sigh, but jumped when the door opened again.

“One more question.” Emeritus popped his head back in, pausing to press his lips together in a worried frown. “Won’t the police come digging around here when they find the bodies?”

“The murder clearly plays in our favor. And it’s not like they’re going to believe us if we say anything about resurrecting the dead for our personal gain of power.” Nihil folded his hands on his desk once more. “If, and only  _ if  _ we get any law-enforcing visitors--”

“I say that the loss of our two devout followers is a grave loss,” Emeritus paused to swallow, trying not to entertain the pun, “and we will do anything we can to help, if needed. And...we don’t know anything about the whole graverobbing thing.”

“Right.” Nihil waved a hand of dismissal.

“Right,” Emeritus repeated, and nodded before he closed the door again.


	4. it's not death if you refuse it

Ray was tapping Frank roughly on the cheek. “Frank, you stupid shit! Wake up!” His voice was frantic; Gerard could hear his panicked pulse all the way from up there.

Luckily, Frank’s eyes opened, and there was a split second where he and Gerard locked eyes one more time before the supposed ghost vanished for good. “Gee--” He bit his tongue and tried to sit up. “Ray, there-- there was this big fuckin’ bird. Rocket chased it and it said Mikey’s name, and then it attacked me and, and Gee was there. I--”

“Stop. Frank...take it easy.” Ray was ready to give him an earful for leaving the goddamn door wide open, but that wasn’t the most important thing. “Let’s just get you back inside. I want you to call your therapist in the morning.”

That woke Frank up, and the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. “The fuck you mean by that?! I fell! You know, not on purpose?”

“Yeah, but for some reason you smell like a goddamn morgue--”

“Oh, because you’re so familiar with the scent, going to see him alone, huh?” Frank rolled onto his knees. Pain shot through the base of his head, but he did his best to ignore it.

“I’m so sorry for making sure you didn’t see your best friend’s fucking dead body!” Ray took a breath, his jaw clenching. Those weren’t the words he wanted to say, but it were the ones he should have said. ”And don’t try to fucking tell me you were gonna abandon Mikey like that.”

Frank’s nails scraped up whatever oily residue surfaced on the pavement, and he hunched forward until his forehead was practically pressed against his hands. “Fuck you.”

Ray assumed Frank was concussed, but telling him that was probably going to piss him off more. He just held out a hand, waiting for Frank to take it so they could get off the dirty fucking ground. “Can you just...come inside? The neighbors are gonna get pissed.”

Frank grunted, begrudgingly let Ray help him back on his feet. His fingers carded back through his hair and he stepped back inside the workshop to shut the lights off and close the door again.

Ray opened the door to the kitchen. “You need anything, man? Ice? Ibuprofen?”

Frank shook his head, just turning on the kitchen sink. He stripped off his sweater and tossed it to the floor, then washed the grime off his arms and face with water as cold as the tap would go. His eyes glanced occasionally to the door beside the counter. Gerard’s door.

Ray silently picked the sweater back up and laid it flat over a kitchen chair. “Alright, dude. Just don’t fuckin’ hemmorhage or anything in your sleep, promise?”

“Yeah,” Frank muttered back in a way that said he really wasn’t listening, but probably got the gist of what Ray was saying. “...Sorry.”

“I know it was a rough day.” Ray decided just to let Frank mull over his thoughts and rest. It wasn’t worth trying to lighten the mood now, no matter how relieved he knew both of them were in the knowledge that Mikey was coming home when the sun came up. “G’night, Frank.”

Frank grunted in response, folding his arms over the edge of the sink. He stared down at the tarnished metal until his exhaustion grew heavy enough that he actually felt sleepy, and he trudged over to Gerard’s room. It took too much energy going up the stairs, and his smell still faintly lingered in the room. It wasn’t like Gerard was going to mind, anyway.

  
  
  
  


It did manage to throw Frank through a loop when he woke up, though, in Gerard’s bed around noon. He rolled onto his back and checked to make sure he was alone, and there was a weight in his stomach when his theory was confirmed. He stared at the wall for what felt like hours, when in reality it was only half a minute, and he pushed himself back on his feet.

His head was still pounding, and the sun made his eyes ache something crazy. He squinted hard when he returned to the kitchen, spotting Ray sitting at the table with a newspaper and a plate of some sort of fancy looking omelet.

“Made you some,” Ray gestured to the other plate waiting at an empty chair. “You should really have something in your stomach.”

Frank swallowed, afraid that Ray was going to comment about him sleeping in the wrong room, but silence never felt so blessed. He sat down as he was told, and sliced up the eggs into the smallest bits he could.

Ray set the paper down, and Frank could feel his chest flare up. “Remember, Mikey said he can be picked up around 4. You got any plans before that?”

Frank struggled not to sigh in relief. “Nah-- well.” He patted around his pockets for his cigarettes, then pulled one out and plucked a lighter off the table. “I figured I should call my therapist today and see if she has time for me.”

“That’s a good idea, dude.” Ray smiled, and poured Frank a glass of water.

Frank inhaled slowly, avoiding eye contact with Ray. He kept the cigarette between his fingers and used his other hand to shovel egg into his mouth. “Dr. Fenning usually doesn’t work after 3:30, so I’ll be back in time.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna hold down the fort in case we get business.” Ray nodded, and they continued quietly on with breakfast.

Frank finished as quickly as he could, not even finished his cigarette yet, and he put his own dishes in the sink. He had to search almost every room for his phone, eventually spotting it in the workshop. Sighing, he searched through social media to procrastinate, until he cursed himself and finally called the office.

“This is Dr. Fenning.”

Frank took another drag. “Uh-- hey. It’s Frank.”

“Hello, Frank.” Her voice brightened up. “Is everything alright?”

He clenched his jaw, exhaling smoke. “Listen, I’m sorta...in a-- do you think you have time for a quick session?”

“Yeah, I’m actually free in an hour. Is that alright?”

“Perfect.” He sighed, rocking back on his heels. “Okay...then, see you in an hour.” Frank wasn’t really the type to say goodbyes most of the time, especially to people he didn’t feel completely connected to. He just hung up, finally finished the cigarette, and got changed.

“Oh, shit! Hold up a second!” Ray rushed to meet Frank at the door before he left.

Frank nearly bit his tongue so hard it bled, but he forced himself not to frown at Ray. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to him. “Yeah?”

“Happy birthday.” Ray grinned. “That’s it.”

Frank let out something between a sigh and a chuckle. “I’ll see you in a bit, dude. Thanks.” He wasn’t sure how much tension spikes he was going to be able to handle, but at least he left calmer than when he woke up.

Zoning out was easy to come by, but he must have had a grim expression because everyone got out of the way of his path. His hands were shoved deep in his jacket pockets with his hood up. He almost passed the office door, his mind was so entrenched in thought, and he stopped abruptly to back up a few steps.

Taking another deep breath, he signed in with the receptionist and was told that the doctor was waiting for him.

Dr. Fenning met him in the hall, gesturing to her open room. “Good to see you, Frank.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Frank mumbled. “Not...not in a bad way. I’m in a bad way, really.”

“Well, then. Take a seat.” She closed the door once he was inside and sat down in her own chair. Her legs crossed pristinely as she picked up a clipboard. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I reached that point. I fucking did it, I’m certified crazy now.” Frank couldn’t stop pacing back and forth. “Gee showed up at our apartment. I swear to God, it was him. I fell on him, Dr. Fenning. I--” His feet held still long enough for his fist to crash into his open palm. “-- _ collided _ with his fucking body! And then he was there in my dream, but that doesn’t count.”

Dr. Fenning fiddled idly with her necklace as she watched him. “You’re not crazy,” she assured him. “This happens to a lot of trauma patients. Just start from the beginning.”

He inhaled as deeply as he could, then paced slower. “I couldn’t sleep last night. So I got up, did some work, and then there was this bird. And then Mikey’s cat chased the stupid thing around to the fire escape, and  _ I _ chased the cat because I didn’t want him to get lost, obviously.” He paused to swallow. He shook his hands out idly. “And then the bird fuckin’ attacked my face. I-- I was up on the first level at that point, and-- and then I...” He blew out the rest of his breath, cheeks puffed.

“Take your time.” Dr. Fenning offered him a miniature bottle of water.

Frank hesitated, but took the bottle anyway and cracked it open. He downed the thing in one go and wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “It all happened so fast at that point. As I fell, I just...he was standing there. Right under me. And he had my fuckin’ makeup on!” He thrust his finger at his own chest. “Unbelievable.”

“You believe you saw Gerard, but not the fact that he...wore your makeup?”

Frank smirked, biting back a small wave of anger. “Whatever. That’s not important.”

“It could be, to you,” she told him.

“No, it really isn’t. Sometimes I just like to find reasons to get mad.” Frank set the empty water bottle down so he could fold his hands behind his head. The light pressure calmed him slightly. “But his face was so clear. And after I woke up, I saw him again. It was only a blink, but I swear to God, it wasn’t the concussion. Hallucinations aren’t a symptom. I looked it up.”

She nodded.

Frank stared at her, shifting his jaw. Dr. Fenning hadn’t blinked in a while, which he found unsettling. “Um-- and, yeah. It was...only a second. Then Ray was hovering over me, screamin’ and shit.”

“Do you remember the dream?” she asked, tapping her fingers against the arm of her chair.

Frank stared at the wall behind her. “Gee was there, givin’ me some sorta vague warning. I dunno what the fuck he was talking about.” He bit his tongue again, and he felt his stomach turn. His chest tightened up. “I need another cigarette.”

“Frank, you were only concussed a few hours ago. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to smoke right now,” Dr. Fenning told him in a semi-chiding manner.

“The fuck are you, my mom?” He looked toward the door and took one step toward it, when his brain vibrated in his skull. “Oh,  _ shit. _ ”

She stood quickly. “Frank? What’s wrong?” Her hand grazed over his shoulder.

He pushed her hand away, then covered his eyes when the room spun and blurred. “S’nothing. Don’t touch me.” His chest started to rise and fall with heavy breaths.

“Frank, please. Sit down.” Dr. Fenning closed the distance between them to try and hold him upright.

He tried to push her away again, but ended up making himself stumble and fall on his back. In a panic, he reached for her necklace and tore it from her neck. His lungs were stunned momentarily, and his eyes rolled back until he blinked. “Wh-what’s happening?” Raising his hand up, he focused as hard as he could on the pendant hanging from small black beads. The image of the inverted cross got his pulse spiking. “Nnnn- no! Fucking no!”

The door opened, and two ghouls entered to hoist Frank back up by the shoulders.

A man with white eyes stood right outside the door. “It’s alright, Frank. We’ll take good care of you,” he said with a soft smile.

“Get off me, get the fuck off me!” Nausea twisted his stomach until the base of his throat burned, and he writhed and jerked his body. It only tired him out all the more.

Sister Imperator stroked the back of Frank’s head. “Easy. Your concussion, remember? You could cause permanent damage, and we need you well enough.” Her fighters spread out to comb through his hair, and she grabbed a fistful of it and jerked his head back.

Frank cried out. Sweat broke out over his forehead and neck. “Where the fuck is Gerard?” His words started to slur, and his mouth turned sour.

“All in due time.” Imperator let his hair go, then picked her necklace up from the floor as Frank was dragged down the hall, still using what strength he had to fight.

  
  
  
  


“Frank...where the fuck are you? Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna keep Mikey waitin’ any longer. Just please lemme know where you are.” Ray bit his tongue, climbing into the driver’s seat of the van. He tossed the backpack on his shoulder on the passenger’s seat. “You’re scaring me a bit, dude.”

He tossed his phone in the cup holder and drove off to the hospital, keeping the radio off to stay more alert for his phone ringing. Much to his hopes and worries, though, the phone didn’t ring. Frowning, he shoved the phone in his pocket when he pulled up to the hospital and paid the stupid meter, entered the lobby, signed in, picked up a visitor’s pass, went up to his room.

It was more refreshing than Ray could find words for to see Mikey actually standing up. Ray was beaming, even if Mikey still looked even more like skin and bones than he did before the attack.

Mikey returned the smile, only for a second, and his eyes started to search. “Where’s Frank?”

“Uh, he...went to go see his doctor earlier. He probably got caught up in, uh, doctor stuff.” Ray rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sure he’s tryin’ to get out of it as fast as he can. Y’know he wouldn’t usually miss something as important as this.”

Mikey nodded, but he couldn’t shake the anxiousness from his expression. “Uh, what’s in the bag?”

“Oh. Brought you clothes and your phone and stuff. Charged it and everything.” Ray handed the bag over.

At least that made the anxiousness vanish for the time being. “Ray Toro, you’rea fuckin’ star!” He had to stop himself from leaping into Ray’s arms, and just settled for smacking a kiss on his cheek.

Ray chuckled. “Alright, just get dressed so we can get you home.”

Mikey nudged Ray once more, then disappeared into a bathroom to change out of his hospital scrubs. His clothes-- favorite jeans, a Misfits shirt, and a thick striped hoodie --smelled just like his room and made his eyes damp. He knew Ray was waiting, though, so he tried to be as quick as possible. Getting dressed was still difficult with mostly one arm, after all.

After he was done, he turned his phone on and tried calling Frank. It might have been a better chance with Mikey’s number, he’d hoped, but Frank’s phone didn’t even ring. Straight to voicemail. He sighed and returned to Ray, forcing a smile again.

Ray grabbed Mikey’s bass and ruffled Mikey’s hair. “Lookin’ good. Let’s sign you out.”

Mikey sighed as he went through the necessary forms, and was given a stack of reference papers and a few different prescriptions, but when he actually took his first step outside, he breathed in deeply. His eyes closed, and just tilted his face up toward the setting sun.

Ray stopped and turned to watch him. “Need a second?”

Mikey tilted his neck back even more, and sighed as audibly and joyfully as he could. “Nah, I’m good now.” Tilting his head forward again, he continued on to the parking lot. “Um...Ray?”

“Yeah, dude?” Ray fished the van keys from his pocket.

Mikey scratched at his wrist. “Before we go home, could we-- could we go see Gee?”

“You wanna do that now?” Ray’s voice softened.

Mikey nodded. “Y’know, it’s just such a nice day, and-- well, I wanted Frank t’be here, too, but maybe it’s best if we go. The two of us. Sucks visiting a graveyard on your birthday.”

Ray nodded. “You don’t gotta justify anything, Mikey. I was actually gonna ask if there’s any place you wanted to eat, but let’s get this outta the way first.”

“Yeah, I’m not starving just yet.” Mikey hopped in the van and sank immediately into the chair. “Oh, it’s so good to be back.”

Ray placed the bass in the back. “It hasn’t been the same without you,” he said, turning the van back on. “Okay...let’s go.”

They kept the radio off during the ride, not needing any filler noise except for the inescapable muffled noises of the city outside. Mikey was just content in mulling over his thoughts, though he could tell Ray had something heavier on his mind. Frank. Something was up with Frank.

Something was just up in general. When they drove up to the lot where Gerard’s grave was, there was police tape lining the square and cops scattered about the place. Mikey practically leapt out of the car and rushed to get a better look.

“Hey, Mikey!” Ray struggled to follow, stumbling out of the van. “Dude. Careful.”

“What’s going on?” Mikey disregarded the tape blocking the area off, hopping over it.

“Mikey!” Ray followed, only trying to pull Mikey back before he got his ass in trouble.

He didn’t get very far when an officer raised a hand. “Sir, you can’t be here. This is an active investigation.”

Mikey could see Gerard’s grave, and his chest swelled with pain. “That’s my brother. Did someone fucking dig up my brother?”

“Mikey--” Ray gently wrapped his arm around Mikey’s upper arm. “You’re gonna wear yourself out. He just got out of the hospital, um--”

The cop looked Mikey up and down, then turned to call over a detective.

“Hey, could you tell me what’s going on? Why’s my brother’s grave dug wide open?” Mikey called to the man approaching.

The detective breathed in deeply. “Son, I’m not sure how to tell you this--”

“So you’re gonna give it to me straight. Okay.” Mikey’s fingers twitched impatiently.

Ray gave him a subtle look to tell him to at least try to be patient.

“Your brother’s body was exhumed somewhere around 1:30 this morning. We’re not sure where he is right now.”

Mikey’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Who dug him up?!”

The detective fiddled around with the notepad in his hand. “The only two suspects were found buried in his place.” He paused again. “You-- you were with him on the night of June 30th, right?”

Mikey paced once, hugging himself. He breathed out hard. “I already gave all my statements-- yeah. I was there. How’s that case goin’, by the way?” His tone sharpened.

“Actually, we may have found some clues here that could point us in the direction of the people who attacked you.” He flipped a few pages, and showed Mikey a sketch of the inverted cross.

Both Mikey’s and Ray’s faces went white. Mikey gripped Ray’s wrist and stared at him. “That’s the motherfucking tattoo, Ray. That’s the bitch who drugged Gee.” His breaths started to get shorter and even heavier.

“Mikey, fuck. Okay. Sit down.” Ray eased him down on the grass, making him sit back on his heels.

The detective crouched down as well. “So you recognize this man?”

“Yeah.” Ray answered, keeping his eyes on Mikey. “What’s that mean? They’re involved with this?”

“Of course they fuckin’ are, it was like a fuckin’ cult attack or something!” Mikey huffed, slightly hunched over.

“Thank you, Mr. Way. Is there anything else we can do for you?” the detective asked.

“I want my brother back,” Mikey stated outright.

The detective paused, and bowed his head. “We’re gonna do everything we can, okay? And we’ll let you know first thing when we do find him.”

“Get me outta here, Ray.” Mikey pulled at his shoulder.

“I gotcha.” Ray slung Mikey’s arm over his shoulder and let him catch his breath so he could walk on his own, and looked back to the detective. “Thanks.” He walked back to the van slowly, his brain wrought with panic-induced ideas that he shoved away as best he could.

Mikey climbed back into the passenger’s seat, grimacing. He clutched his stomach. “What if they have Frank, too?”

Goddammit, they were thinking the same thing. Ray just gripped the steering wheel. “I dunno what we’re supposed to do.” His throat ached saying every word.

They sat in silence for a handful of long, stressful minutes.

Mikey straightened his back. “Just take me home.”

And so Ray did. He sped through yellow lights when he could, but made sure he wasn’t going fast enough to hurt Mikey. It was just better to get home sooner. When he parked, he took the bass inside, skipping out on the garage for now. Mikey could check out the workshop later. He looked up as he approached the front door when a crow cawed from the corner of the roof.

Mikey just kicked his shoes off upon entering and ran to Frank’s room. He wasn’t expecting him to be there, but he just hoped something would jump out as a clue.

“Mikey--” Ray stopped outside Frank’s door. “He was at the therapist. It might not be as...bad...” He blinked, all thoughts cast to the wind when he picked up a familiar smell. The morgue smell. His brow knotted hard, and he looked down the hall. It was empty.

“Ray?” Mikey waved a hand in front of his face. “Dude, where’re you going?”

Ray pushed his hand down. “You smell that?”

Mikey gave a sniff. “Oh. Is that some sorta gas leak or something?”

“No.” Ray breathed in deeply, then opened Gerard’s door. Surprisingly, it was empty, which made him feel even worse.

“Dude, what is it?” Mikey got frantic again, then opened his own door and nearly collapsed. His hand pressed over his mouth, and stumbled back until his back hit the wall. The light wasn’t even on, but there was enough from the hall and the open window behind him to illuminate Gerard’s face. Even if it was angled down.

Gerard looked up quickly, though, his face wet with tears. He was sitting on Mikey’s bed, open hands turned upward on his knees. “Mikey?”

“The fuck is going on? What are you-- you can’t--” Mikey wasn’t sure whether to be skeptical or furious or relieved, but his instinct took over and he threw himself into Gerard’s lap. He hugged him as tightly as he could.

“Mikey, Mikey, you’re alive!” Gerard hugged him back, rocking him slowly as he continued to sob. He buried his face in his brother’s shoulder.

Ray approached the bed, staring down in disbelief. “There’s no way,” he spoke without thinking. “Gerard? How?!” He reached out and touched Gerard’s arm to solidify this in his head. “We-- holy shit. Shit! How are you here?!”

Gerard didn’t answer back immediately; he had to catch his breath. When he pulled away, he bumped foreheads with Mikey and grinned with exhaustion. “I was lookin’ for you everywhere, Mikey.” Before either of them could ask more questions, he finally looked to Ray. “This whole thing, the attack, the grave thing, it was...it was some sorta ritual. Curse. I don’t fucking know. But I know where they are. And I know I have to kill them.”

“Come again?” Ray crossed his arms. “Did you...take out those guys at the graveyard?”

Even though Ray already knew the answer to the question, Gerard still nodded. He let Mikey shift and sit beside him, and he folded his hands in his lap. “I woke up last night...the two of ‘em were digging me out. I didn’t remember shit at first, until I touched one of the guys and the night came back to me. Well-- in pieces. And then I went to the bar--”

“Frank really did fucking see you, didn’t he?” Ray touched a few strands of Gerard’s hair.

Gerard bit his tongue. “Is he okay? I know he fell, it was an accident, but then I was afraid of being seen--”

“Why?” Ray pulled his hand back. “Dude, you know there’s nowhere safer for you to be than with us.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to lead them to you.” Gerard gripped his knees, digging his nails lightly in. “And yet I was so desperate to find Mikey. He didn’t have a grave--” His lips hung open as he shook his head. “he...I dunno. I was so driven to find him.”

Mikey took Gerard’s hand, trying to relax it. “I’m here, Gee. And you’re here with us.” He didn’t smile. “Frank, though...”

Gerard tensed more. “I’m gonna go over there.” He stood up, but couldn’t walk forward since Mikey hadn’t let go of his hand.

“The fuck are you talking about? You’re just gonna walk into the middle of a fucking cult, what? Guns blazing?” Mikey spat.

“Since when were you an expert assassin? You can’t even do karate.” Ray scoffed.

“No-- guys. Listen. I can’t die,” Gerard stammered. “A-again.” Gently, he slid his hand out of Mikey’s grasp. He eyed a pocket knife on top of the dresser, but his stomach turned immediately. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to demonstrate his immortality by stabbing himself. He sighed and turned on his heel, pressing his palms against his forehead. “I was brought back specifically to kill these fuckers. I know it. I still don’t know what  _ they _ want, but it doesn’t matter.”

Mikey shook his head and sprung up to his feet. “This is nuts. We gotta find some other way to find Frank.”

Gerard’s face softened. “They’re not gonna get me. I’m like a bullet through a flock of--” He stammered again, glancing off to the side. “--of, uh...shit.”

“Crows?” Ray asked.

Gerard pressed his lips together tightly, and shook his head. “Nah, that’s not right.”

As if it was summoned, the crow dove down to the window. “Ghost!” it screeched, flapping its wings. “Ghost! Ghost!”

Nobody had time to respond. Seconds later, there was a loud crash downstairs.

“Stay here, don’t fucking move.” Gerard bolted for the stairs and stopped halfway down.

Sister Imperator stood with perfect poise, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Behind her stood four ghouls armed with pistols. “You must be the vessel.” She gave a sickeningly sweet smile, and shook her head. “You kept us waiting, dear. We don’t have time for dawdling.”

Mikey appeared at the top of the stairs. “Where the hell is Frank?!”

Gerard’s eyes shut tight, and he swallowed anger.  _ Godfuckingdammit, you little shit. _

“Frank is fine. He’s got fire, that one. Took a lot longer for the Rohypnol to work fully for him than you.” Imperator’s smile twitched.

Mikey’s lungs burned as anger grasped at him. “You fucking--” He leapt forward without thinking, and was caught and pushed until his back hit the stairs as softly as Gerard could manage.

An even louder  _ bang _ pierced the air as Gerard shouted Mikey’s name, and he hugged Mikey in protection.

“Gee?” Mikey whimpered at the sight of blood spattering the space beside them. “G-- Gee...”

Gerard lifted his head to stare hard at his brother. “I fucking TOLD you to stay in your fucking room!” His own blood dripped over his temple, but there was no wound.

Mikey could only stare wide-eyed. His whole body burned with ache, and he jumped when Ray rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Get the fuck up here,” Ray hissed, pulling Mikey back when Gerard let him go.

Gerard sighed heavily and rubbed the blood off with the back of his hand. He continued all the way down the staircase, stopping a few inches in front of Imperator’s face. “If you did. Anything. To hurt him, I fucking swear, you’re going to wish I took more mercy when I kill you.”

Imperator didn’t flinch. “Why don’t you come see him for yourself?” she asked softly.

“Gerard, wait!” Mikey was still held back by Ray, but he leaned forward. “Just fucking think for a second, would you?!”

“You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you? So would Frank.” Gerard kept eye contact with Imperator as he responded to Mikey. “Please don’t get yourself hurt.”

“Gerard, you-- FUCK!” Mikey ran out of breath. His fingernails dug deep into Ray’s arms.

“Just wait. Fucking wait, will you?” Ray whispered right into Mikey’s ear. “We’ll follow them when we don’t have fucking guns pointed at us.”

“Where is the bird?” Imperator asked firmly.

Gerard slowly lifted his arm, and the crow appeared from the upstairs hall to fly down and perch on it. “Do you need anything else? My firstborn? A goat?”

Imperator eyed him up and down, not saying anything. She turned swiftly and headed for the door, the ghouls creating a small barrier around Gerard to make sure he followed without trouble.

Ray loosened his grip on Mikey. “Fire escape,” he muttered, and dragged Mikey to his feet so they could climb out Frank’s bedroom window.

Gerard sat down in the back seat of a black Rolls Royce, the crow now in his lap. It was growing increasingly anxious, and he stroked the back of its neck to keep from getting too loud.

“I know you’re worried,” Imperator thought aloud once she was in the passenger’s seat. “And I understand your brother and your friends will worry. But all are welcome under our congregation. Maybe they should consider joining us as well.”

Gerard bit his tongue as he locked eyes with the woman through the rearview window, keeping himself collected. “Your death is going to be the most painful, I’ve decided.”


	5. staring down the cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for all that have read this so far! i updated the tags again for trigger purposes, just a heads-up

The first thing Frank saw when he awoke was what he could only describe as the most constipated looking skull he’d ever witnessed. He wheezed in and coughed, rolling onto his side as his senses came to, one after the other. His muscles were still numb, he could hear his blood rushing through his brain more keenly than anything else around him, and his wrists stung like a motherfucker. A pain shot through his temple when the metal base of a staff thumped against it.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.” Emeritus stared down at Frank, and he clicked his tongue. “We were getting a little scared that you might have strained yourself into a more serious condition.”

Frank’s smell and taste kicked in slowly, filling him with a nauseating bitterness. His tongue pressed against his teeth, and he spat out the taste as much as he could.

“Oh, no no no. You stop that.” Emeritus pressed his boot down on Frank’s head. “You already vomited on my upholstery, we don’t need you being more of a mess.” Backing up a step, he sighed and set the staff aside. He crouched down and helped Frank to sit up. “I’m sorry, my son. This won’t be for much longer. Your friend is already on his way to trade himself for you and then you can forget any of this ever happened.”

Frank’s eyelids drooped, hardly any of the words registering to him.

Emeritus stared at him in study, then blinked. “You know, I don’t say this to many people, Frank. But I see great potential in you. You have just the kind of strength we look for in followers--” He was cut off when Frank’s forehead collided hard with his own. His neck whipped back, knocking the papal hat off.

“Let’m go,” Frank grumbled, pulling at his wrist restraint until it cut his skin. “Let Gerard go.”

Emeritus breathed deeply, and stood again. “You’ll understand, sooner or later. For now, you rest.” When he snapped his fingers, Frank was lifted up by two ghouls and laid out, then strapped down to a table. An IV was inserted into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t struggle, it’s only saline. Scout’s honor.”

Frank snarled and bit at the hands touching him, but was soon left to steep in the cold, silent dark. His heart pumped twice as fast, where his growls of anger bled into whimpers. This room was like sensory deprivation, and it was backfiring on him in the worst way.

Four months, he thought. Four fucking months that he had gone to therapy and trusted that bitch. He’d told her everything about the attack, of course, and about Ray and Mikey and Gerard he would have never told anyone else. His inner thoughts had been used as a weapon against him, and now all he could do was steep there in his guilt and misery. He didn’t even know if he was going to be left down here to die.

What if this was all just some extended part of whatever piece of shit ritual this all started out as? What if Gerard really was dead, and last night was just a figment of his spiraling loneliness? What if Ray and Mikey were next?

Frank swore he was gonna protect Mikey, even if it was just in a dream. He didn’t keep his word. He was going to lose everything, if he hadn’t already yet.

Tears streamed down his temples and dampened his hair, and pain flooded his head.

* * *

“Mikey.” Ray couldn’t take his eyes off the road to look at him, but he reached out to stop him from chewing the skin off his nails. His hand stayed wrapped around Mikey’s, heat enveloping the area. “Dude, you just got out of the hospital.”

“That’s my  _ brother _ . I just about watched him die, Ray,” Mikey took to chewing his lower lip instead. “We can’t lose him again. And Frank. Goddammit, if I’d have never left my phone inside the fucking bar, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Don’t start that shit. Not now.” Ray raised his voice. “Not ever. You start blaming yourself, and you start this spiral that doesn’t stop, and then we won’t be able to help Gee  _ or _ Frank. So...try to keep it together a little longer.” His chest shuddered. “Please?”

Mikey gripped onto Ray’s hand in return. “We’re gonna get ‘em back,” he said more to himself than anything, repeating the words quieter and quieter until they drifted off.

Ray just nodded once, rubbing his thumb over the back of Mikey’s hand.

  
  
  
  


Nihil waited in the foyer, smiling when the double doors finally opened. “Ah, at long last,” he said with a pleasant sigh. “The vessel. It’s very good to see you again.”

Gerard kept looking forward, avoiding making eye contact with the man. He remembered those eyes; they were the eyes that watched him take his final breaths of life without remorse. The crow hissed at Nihil from Gerard’s shoulder as they walked by, into the main chapel.

Nihil looked then to Sister Imperator, and walked by her side behind everyone else. They both gave a subtle nod to each other; everything was finally going according to plan.

Only four rows of the front pews were lined with faceless followers, looking up to a candle-lit altar. Emeritus stood front and center, silk robes of black and green flowing down his shoulders against the red backlight of the three giant stainglass windows.

The crow took flight to hide up in the rafters, able to keep watch over more from a distance. It was also easier to keep away from greedy hands.

“Welcome, our awaited vessel.” Emeritus gracefully held his arms out. “Our hopes are awakened with your presence--”

“Where’s Frank?” Gerard demanded.

“...Just wait.” Emeritus curled his fingers so only his index was pointing upward. “I’ve prepared this speech just for you, and you’ve made me wait to use it. So be quiet and listen.”

Gerard kicked in the back of the knee of one of the ghouls surrounding him and grabbed the gun from his belt to point at Emeritus. “Where’s Frank?” he repeated louder.

The sitting ghouls stood quickly, all pointing guns at Gerard.

Gerard bit back a smile, keeping his aim pointed to Emeritus’s head. “You can shoot me all you want, but you know it’s not going to work,” he reminded him. “I’m calling the shots now. Hand Frank over now.”

Emeritus rolled his eyes. “You have no appreciation for a good introduction, really,” he muttered. He gestured at a ghoul manning the side-door, who disappeared momentarily. “Fine. We’re retrieving him. Now will you listen?”

“The fuck? No!” Gerard shot once, but the bullet grazed Emeritus’s ear.

Emeritus grunted and pressed his hand over the side of his head. “Insolent, unbelievable, arrogant--” he prattled off, and raised his other hand high. “Teach him a lesson.”

The shots went off until Gerard’s body was weighed down with lead, dropping him to the floor. His blood started to form a puddle, but stopped quickly and the bullets dripped out of his skin until all the wounds were closed.

“Ow, fuck, ow...” Gerard whispered to himself, and groaned when he shifted back to his knees.

Emeritus appeared inches in front of him, tisking and shaking his head. “Just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, Vessel.”

“His name’s Gerard, you wrinkled fuck!” Frank shouted from the doorway.

“Frank?” Gerard shot up to his feet and leapt forward, but was gripped by Emeritus and Imperator.

Frank was being held back, though he’d regained most of his strength and made sure the ghouls keeping him from moving forward didn’t have an easy time. When he got a better look at Gerard, though, he slowed and widened his eyes. “Gee...”

Gerard stared back, almost hardly able to believe it himself. He wanted to smile, there was relief flooding him in the fact that Frank was unharmed, but fear also turned his stomach.

“Gee, holy shit...” Frank didn’t care about anything else at that moment. Not even the gun pressed to the back of his head.

Gerard let out the breath he was holding. “Let him go now. Keep your promise.”

Emeritus eyed Gerard. “Will you keep yours?”

Frank leaned forward. shaking his head. “Gee.”

“I’ll keep my promise,” Gerard answered, curling his fingers into his palms.

“Very good. He may go now.”

The ghouls released Frank slowly, keeping their guard up in case he were to lash out again.

Frank was not calm, by any means, but he realized just how many eyes were pointed at him. He stood still at first, then rushed to Gerard as close as he could until Emeritus stood between them. “Get outa the fuckin’ way.”

“It’s time for you to leave,” Emeritus warned him. “Unless you want to stay around and watch his initiation.”

“I’m not leaving without him,” Frank spat back.   
  
Emeritus eyes him up and down. “Fine. Then stay.”

Frank bumped shoulders with him to stand in front of Gerard, neither of them unable to say anything. His hands rose up to touch Gerard’s face, searching his expression. “It’s really you?” His voice cracked, and he swallowed. Imperator’s and Nihil’s eyes watched him intently, which ebbed at his relief. Still, just being able to touch Gerard without passing out was enough for the situation at hand.

“Yeah.” Gerard smiled at him and rested his hands over Frank’s. “It’s alright. I got this.”

“Mikey’s alive, Gee. He made it.” Frank rubbed his thumbs over Gerard’s cheekbones.

“Yeah.” Gerard nodded. “They’re really worried about you, him and Ray.” His eyes cast down. “Listen, I don’t want you to watch this. Could you do me this last favor and find them? Let ‘em know you’re okay.”

Frank immediately wanted to protest, but there was a look in Gerard’s eye that told him that some serious shit might go down. His lips parted, unable to move his feet just yet. “Am I ever gonna see you again?”

Gerard stroked Frank’s hair. “Yeah,” he repeated, quieter. “You will.”

Frank clenched his jaw, and nodded. There were still so many eyes on them both, he knew, and he dropped his hands. Every step away from Gerard hurt more, but with a ghoul right at his back escorting him out of the chapel, his options were much too limited for his taste.

The moment he walked through the doors, the ghoul grunted and fell to the floor. Frank whipped his head around and saw Ray, shaking what was just a fist, and was pulled off to the side.

“Shit, you okay? What happened?” Ray asked as he hugged Frank tightly.

“What’s it look like?” Frank gripped Ray’s sides for a second as another, smaller wave of anger festered in the pit of his stomach, then sighed. “I-- I can’t fucking believe they played me like that. Fucking--”

“Frank!” Mikey pulled him away from Ray and hugged him next. “You’re okay, thank fuck.”

Frank should have been happier to see Mikey up on his feet, but fear replaced it. “Are you hurt, Mikey? You okay?”

“Yeah. Where’s Gee?” Mikey stepped back, and before the question could be answered, it sounded like fireworks going off on the other side of the wall.

Frank wrapped his body protectively around Mikey, though nothing around them aimed to harm them.

“Guys!” Ray shouted and tapped Frank on the shoulder. He pointed down the adjacent hall where Nihil and Imperator were running, the echoes of pained squawking following them.

Mikey was the first to make chase. “The bird! It’s connected to Gee somehow!”

Ray and Frank hurried after Mikey.

  
  
  
  
  


Everyone sat down again, save for Gerard and Emeritus. Gerard knelt at the altar, his back tense and his eyes shut. The candles around him blazed hotter, and he felt his chin being tilted up.

“Look at me,” Emeritus demanded. “Accept your new purpose in this world. Cast away all your pain and see the new light of your future.”

Gerard stayed silent and still. Above, the crow screeched and shot down from its perch above, talons out and angled for Emeritus’s throat. It was quick enough to latch onto the soft flesh, tearing until the carotid was opened and blood streamed forward like a tiny fire hose.

Emeritus wrestled with the bird, gripping its neck and stumbling backwards until his robes caught the fire of the candles. The crow had released him and was throws to the floor, both it and Gerard suddenly needing to catch their breaths, but Emeritus fell backwards and shocked on the smoke and flame quickly consuming his body.

Imperator screamed to open fire once again, grabbing Nihil to pull him to the side hall. Nihil snatched the crow up before it recovered fully, and clutched it to his chest and got out of the crossfire.

Fire spread over the altar and around Gerard, but he was still able to find the strength to get up. The heat wasn’t affecting him more than a strange, hot wave of pins and needles over his skin. Focus set in to a point where Gerard didn’t recognize himself anymore. Something else was taking him over, something vicious and precise. He’d let all previous thoughts go and retaliated, grabbing whatever gun was closest and mowing down mask after mask. When that gun was empty, he picked up another. And another.

It all happened so fast that Gerard’s vision wasn’t even present in the moment. He’d started watching through the crow’s eyes instead, seeing visions of Frank, Ray, and Mikey racing down a hall to stop the two survivors from getting away. But when he came back to it, the smoking guns dropped from his hands and he took in the scene of a small-scale massacre.

The wounds ached as they closed up again. “Alright, ‘cmon,” he muttered to himself, picking up one more loaded gun. “Finish this.” He stumbled out into the hall and away from the ever-growing fire, a reminder in the back of his head that he needed to hurry the fuck up before this place is just steel foundation and ash.

The light of the yellow stain glass lining the hall gave a sickly color to the scene, depictions of serpents and dancing winged creatures dimly illuminated from whatever lights outside could stretch that far across. Gerard just kept his eyes forward and swallowed the sour bile in the back of his throat.

  
  
  
  


Mikey’s lungs burned the more he pushed himself, his heart begging him to take it easier. He stopped when Imperator and Nihilus locked themselves in the office at the end of the hall, though it didn’t keep him from fighting the doorknob.

Ray rested a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “Breathe, Mikey,” he thought aloud, seeing Mikey clearly in a state of growing exhaustion.

“We gotta get that crow back,” Mikey huffed, pressing a hand over his chest.

“Hang tight.” Frank kicked under the doorknob as hard as he could. It took two more kicks to break the mechanics, and he budged the door open.

“Don’t come any closer.” Imperator stood behind the office desk, wielding a rifle in both hands. Nihil stood beside her with the tip of a knife pressed to the crow’s chest.

Frank glowered as he took a step back, holding his hands up. “Fine. What happened to Gerard, where is he?”

Imperator kept her finger steady on the trigger. “That doesn’t matter. The ritual’s been irreparably ruined, and now we don’t have any more reason to spare any of you.”

A single shot fired out, and Frank’s breath immediately collapsed out of his body. He stared down at himself, and found no blood. No pain. Behind him, Gerard screamed and fell to the floor, clutching his chest. His own gun lay on the floor in front of him.

Nihil fell backward. A bullet hole smoked out of the crow’s chest, as well as through his ribs.

Imperator watched him sink to the floor, and for the first time, showed genuine shock and sorrow.


	6. morphine to a wooden leg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, two chapters in one day! but they were both shorter than the other ones, so i guess it balances out? anyway, don't listen to the album stomachaches when reading this. and as usual, thanks so much for reading!

“Gee?” Mikey staggered forward and fell on his knees in front of Gerard. “Hey, you okay? Where’re you hurt?”

One shot went off in Frank’s shoulder, and Ray pulled his good arm out of the doorway right before the pain started setting in. “Fuck, Frank!” Ray hissed, pressing his hand on the hole to keep him from bleeding.

Imperator growled as she marched forward, aiming the rifle at Mikey.

Gerard shoved Mikey out of the way and took three hits to the upper ribs. Seeing him get shot was mortifying enough, but when the wounds didn’t close up this time, they all went white.

Even though Mikey was sitting, he felt his legs get weak, and all he could do was stare. His body was at its limits, his limbs screaming every time he tried to move.

Frank was also at his own limits, at least in regard to Gerard having to do all the work. They’d all been pushed around and threatened enough. Imperator had deceived him, emotionally stripped him and left him to suffer. She hurt Mikey and Gerard, and Ray’s life was never going to be the same, and it was all her fault. He sprang forward and knocked her off her feet.

The gun went flying out of her hands and slid over the floor, further away. He managed to pin her on her back and grab her by the collar with one hand, his other balling up into a fist. “Ragged, evil, manipulating motherfucker!” he shouted as the fist came down hard against her face repeatedly. Her hands reached out to scratch at wherever they could find, but she was at a disadvantage.

Ray had ran over to Gerard and looked over his wounds. “We gotta get you outta here,” he thought aloud. “Can you get up?”

Gerard’s eyes closed tight. “It’s not over yet,” he responded with disdain, his brow knotted. “Listen. The place is already on fire, there’s not a lot of time left.”

“Okay, then let’s go.” Ray threw Gerard’s arm over his shoulder.

Gerard groaned and nudged Ray away. “I can’t yet.” At the other end of the hall, the whole building gave a low roar, and the muffled sound of crashing boomed toward them.

“Frank, drop the bitch and grab Mikey. We gotta leave,” Ray spoke up, ignoring Gerard’s words as he grabbed him again.

Frank’s mind was lost in his rage, his knuckles bloody and splintered. He only stopped when he felt Ray grab the back of his shirt.

“Frank!” Ray demanded, snapping him fully back into reality. “It’s out of our hands now.”

Frank was trembling, panting through gritted teeth, and he looked to Mikey, crumpled against the wall. Crawling off Imperator, he mustered pieces of his sanity back up and helped Mikey onto his feet.

Gerard still struggled, but the pain under his collarbone didn’t help his case. The only noises he could make were small whines when he was moved around. Something else didn’t feel right; the uneasiness weighed him down and kept his head bowed.

“Sorry, sorry. We’re gonna get you help, promise.” Ray whispered to him, brushing his hair from his forehead.

They were twenty feet away from an exit door, closing distance as fast as they could. Mikey pushed the door open when he could reach it, letting Frank drag him into the open sidewalk.

Gerard turned his head around one last time when his anxiety grew too persistent. He locked eyes-- well, eye, considering Frank had crushed in one of Sister Imperator’s, and she pulled the trigger one final time. Metal tore through his side as Ray bumped into the nearest wall, and he acted on impulse and pushed Ray out of the door.

Nobody had time to grab Gerard before he’d closed it on them, locking it from the inside. “Gerard, I’ll fucking kill you myself!” Mikey wailed as he punched the metal door.

Gerard stood up as tall as he could, his stare blank when he met Imperator’s gaze again.

She pulled the trigger, only to have it click. Cursing under her breath, she tossed it to the side. She was too weak to get on her feet, and dread washed over her when Gerard loomed over her. “So this is the true power of the vessel...” she spat. “What a waste.”

“I promised you the most painful death.” Gerard crouched beside her head, and laid his hand over her eyes. His muscles shook when he pressed harder. “Feel what you’ve done to all of us. Six months of agony...all at once.” His own eyes shut when his body went ice cold. “All for you.”

Imperator’s lungs seized up with shock, her back arching like she was being electrocuted. Gerard had let her stay in this state for as long as he could handle.

His face grew wet when his eyes opened again. “I don’t want it anymore...” His other hand helped to grab her jaw, and he twisted her neck swiftly with a grotesque snap. The anxiety and uneasiness left his body like a lifted weight, and he sat back and hunched over.

The glass windows beside him smashed open, and Ray reached in to pull him out for good. Mikey had half a mind to backhand Gerard, but too much had happened already. “What do we do now?” Mikey had asked instead.

“The fire will draw attention,” Frank pointed out.

Gerard’s eyes pointed down the street. He could see the faintest outline of green. “Wanna hang out at the park?”

Anyone else would have waited for an ambulance, but Gerard knew he couldn’t go to any hospital, and the rest of them gravely understood. Off they went to the park, feeling slightly better with the fresher air around them. Eventually, they’d settled at the top of a hill overlooking a pond. It was far enough away from the streets to keep attention away from them all, and the noise of traffic was muted.

Ray and Mikey sat on both sides of Gerard, nobody able to think of anything to say at first. Gerard finally broke the silence. “Anyone got a light?”

Ray pat his pockets, and shook his head. Mikey shrugged. “Doctor’s orders said I can’t,” he answered. Frank remained standing, looking away from the rest of them.

Gerard pressed his elbows against his knees. “Frank?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth and tossed his cigarettes in Gerard’s general direction.

Gerard picked the carton up off the grass and pulled out one, along with the lighter tucked inside. “...Frank?” he called out again before lighting up. “What’s wrong?”

Frank rolled his eyes and scratched at the edge of his nose. “You fuckin’ know what’s wrong--” He stopped himself before he said something he didn’t mean. He rocked back on his heels.

“Dude...just sit down.” Ray spoke gently. “Your shoulder’s still bleeding, right?”

Frank’s ribs felt like they were caving in, and it wasn’t because of the bullet. Now that it was all over, there was only one more thing left to happen, and he wasn’t sure if he could go through just watching it happen. He stared at the pond like he was trying to boil the water with his eyes.

Gerard inhaled a deep puff of smoke as he watched him. “C’mere,” he beckoned. “Please.”

It wasn’t as if Frank could just walk away, but he hated when he was seen like this. “It’s not-- it’s not fair, Gee. None of this was ever goddamn fair. It’s fucking insane. Why the fuck do we have to go through with losing you twice, huh?!” His nails scratched over his scalp as he pushed his hair back, still refusing to look at any of them. “We had a future ahead of us, we were gonna  _ be _ something! Together!”

Gerard let the words sink in, and they settled deep. “I came here to bring justice for Mikey. That’s the only reason, Frank. And now you guys are all safe. I know it’s hard to ask this, but I...I don’t want you to be angry anymore. Not right now.”

“Fuck you, Gee.” Frank turned sharply, his eyes puffy and red. But he finally complied and sat in front of him, taking the cigarette from his fingers. “Fuck you and your fucking art theft.”

Gerard chuckled and blinked. “What?”

“You said the X’s were  _ my _ thing,” Frank grumbled, inhaling until his chest burned.

“The memory stuck out to me the most,” Gerard admitted as he took his cigarette back.

“Frank, dude, come closer.” Ray pulled a bandanna out from his back pocket and held it against Frank’s shoulder. “How bad does it hurt?”

“I don’t really care.” Frank tilted his up and stared at the brightening sky.

Gerard looked up as well. “Fuck...oh my god, I’m such an asshole.”

“That’s not new,” Frank said passively, then sighed. “Sorry. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.” A broken smile grew over Gerard’s mouth.

He wasn’t sure why that broke him specifically, but he whined and pressed his face hard into his hands. “You didn’t,” he sobbed. “Shut up. You didn’t.”

Mikey grabbed one of Frank’s hands to hold gently. His head rested on Gerard’s shoulder. “There’s no other way to keep you here? It still feels too soon.”

Gerard’s posture straightened, the pain started to slowly, finally lift off his body. “It’s all gonna be okay. You guys still have a future, got it? And you’re gonna be fucking awesome.” He passed the cigarette back to Frank, nudging him gently to let him know it was in front of him.

Frank reached out to take it, and felt the first warm sunbeam of morning dash across both their hands.

In the blink of an eye, Gerard was gone.

They all needed time to process in the empty space, when Ray rubbed his eye. “We gotta get to the hospital,” he decided. “C’mon. Let’s get up. The van’s parked close by.”

There wasn’t even an indent in the grass from where Gerard had sat, but they knew none of this was a dream. There was a faint warmth around them, cutting against the bitter November chill as they moved on.

**Author's Note:**

> halfway through writing this first chapter, i saw a photoset of gerard & lynz in crow paint and i almost cried. but anyway, uhhhh i'm really insecure so i hope this was entertaining to read so far. comments always appreciated!


End file.
